


Vanilla Clouds

by cxoixen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gay Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Instability, Molestation, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxoixen/pseuds/cxoixen
Summary: “All I did was-““Screw with 4 guys, fuck around with 2 girls, break into the library to watch anime you hadn’t seen and hijack Mr. Cracker Munchkin’s bicycle because you lost your wallet? Care to elaborate at what point exactly, did these actions of yours even involve the concept of an idea, Hanamaki?”





	1. How the hell did that happen?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I don't have even the slightest idea about what I'm doing but well it was too hard to resist the urge to write some Matsuhana + extra so here I am trying to deliver something with some level of enjoyable quality. And it's my first time publishing my writings, so I definitely appreciate all kinds of critique and comments!

”For the record, it wasn’t my idea,” Hanamaki pointed out while playing with a small silvery spoon between his index and middle finger. He twirled it around a couple of times and then thrusted it back into his half-eaten vanilla pudding which he held in his other hand.

“All I did was-“ 

“Screw with 4 guys, fuck around with 2 girls, break into the library to watch anime you hadn’t seen and hijack Mr. Cracker Munchkin’s bicycle because you lost your wallet? Care to elaborate at what point exactly, did these actions of yours even involve the concept of an idea?” 

“Well… You know me, I’m big on improvising,” Hanamaki winked and stuffed a spoonful of pudding into his mouth. He enjoyed the flavor of rather artificial vanilla but made a mental note to actually eat something that tasted like proper vanilla the next time he could. He did pride himself for loving proper dessert above all and anything else edible. 

“Hana-!”

“Daichi, chill, or your ultra-sexy thighs are gonna rip your new pants which you bought just to impress your little angelic ash-blonde.” A man with a take-away cup of hot coffee and a paper bag with fresh bagels sat down by the same round table Hanamaki and Daichi were decked around of. He dropped his black backpack by his feet and threw the paper bag to the middle of their shared table in a carefree manner of delivering their lunch. 

Daichi flushed bright red at that but before he had a chance to correct the rather suggestive comment by anything more than shouting a pleading ‘Kuroo!’ the mentioned youth continued sharing his quite informative opinion. 

“Makki was, in his rather weak defense, ridiculously drunk, when he decided to lay his hands on Mr. Cracker Munchkin’s bicycle and well majority of the people he shacked up with were quite hot, so no judgment for those. What I do not get though, is the whole library-adventure. How the hell did that happen?” Kuroo lifted his right eyebrow in a questioning manner as he glanced at Hanamaki who had by now moved on from his pudding and conducted a rather sneaky heist on Daichi’s tray. Hanamaki had fished Daichi’s minimuffin and was now effectively peeling off the paper around it before stuffing the whole thing into his mouth with a stupidly satisfied expression that resembled a squirrel or hamster that had stuffed its’ cheeks full of acorns or something. 

Kuroo couldn’t deny that Hanamaki Takahiro wasn’t a catch. Surely a bit too snarky and not exactly Kuroo’s type since he surprisingly preferred the petite and quiet, but Makki had his moments. Moments like this, where he was absurdly cute with the way he acted for example because of sweets and pastries the teen so loved. But even if Makki was outside Kuroo’s radar, it didn’t mean others weren’t interested. Quite the opposite actually, ridiculously many literally lusted after the male and countless others were after him or his ass for multiple other reasons. 

“You’re staring.”

Kuroo smirked. “As if you don’t enjoy it.” 

“Never did I deny that.”

“Please stop that. I don’t care to witness a public fucking on a cafeteria table.” A pair of men joined their table, the slightly taller one with pompous attitude and almost glittering presence and very vocal arguments sat next to Hanamaki and the other with a stoic facial expression and a tray with a very balanced food repertoire chose the chair by Daichi’s side. 

“You’re not usually such a spoilsport, Tooru. What happened?” Before anyone could stop him, Hanamaki had managed to ask one of the most banned questions with Oikawa around. Now the noisy male was launching a tirade about his beyond miserable morning that seemed to include a missing shampoo bottle and something about ponies and unicorns with magic coins. Or that last part could’ve been about the children’s movie Oikawa had seemingly forced Iwaizumi to watch at 4AM that morning and then somehow gotten mixed into his colorful blabbering. 

Abruptly Iwaizumi stood up, seemingly gotten enough of Oikawa’s endless chattering, and hit the brunette to the back of his head. That made Oikawa yelp and mutter complaints which went unacknowledged by all. Soon after the shorter and rather short-fused male stomped off with Oikawa stumbling after him yelling some surprisingly pathetic version of his preferred nickname for the man. 

“That never gets old,” Kuroo cackled, clearly relieved the annoyance was now gone and running after his man.

“I don’t understand how Iwaizumi can live with him,” Daichi shook his head.

“…Just asking, but are we really ignoring Makki’s latest adventure already?” 

Three pair of eyes shot to the direction where the voice originated from and landed on a short strawberry blond boy who was drinking strawberry milkshake with a straw. He was sitting on a chair between Kuroo and Daichi, one elbow on the desk and leaning on it while looking curiously towards each of the other occupants of the table. 

“Um? Hello? Earth to three idiots?” Yaku asked while shaking his milkshake sideways so as to draw the attention of the three men who were currently staring at him with sort of stupefied expressions. 

The first to snap out of it was Kuroo, thanks to his ridiculous adaptability. “Yaku-san, are you a ninja?” He asked with a very serious look, earning an odd silence that lasted around 3 seconds before Hanamaki burst out laughing and Daichi literally face-palmed himself. Yaku narrowed his eyes to almost cat-like expression while facing Kuroo and slowly lowered his milkshake to the table. He picked out the straw, surprisingly skillfully licked it clean and then in a swift movement stabbed Kuroo to his thigh with it. The bed-haired man let out an unmanly shriek he immediately tried to muffle as he moved reflexively to protect his attacked limb. 

“What the hell, man? Seriously what the hell! Ow! Auch! It hurts!” Kuroo went on whining and demanding an explanation which only further continued to amuse Hanamaki who was already in danger of falling from his chair. 

“You,” Yaku pointed at Kuroo with his earlier weapon. “Are an utter idiot with idiotic hair.” 

“Hey! Don’t insult my hair!”

“And that’s where you decide to comment? His insult on your hair?” Daichi asked incredulously. 

“My hair is the representative of my awesomeness and it makes me look irresistibly sexy!” Was Kuroo’s ingenious argumentation that had the honor of being accompanied by Hanamaki’s still-continuing bubbling laughter. 

“At least you seem to be aware that your hair is the only reason you get laid,” commented Yaku as he finished his milkshake and glanced at his cellphone’s screen to check the time. 

“Touché,” Kuroo gave a defeated laugh as he directed his look towards Hanamaki who was by now a puffing ball of giggles half-topped over his knees and teetering on his chair. “What do you suppose that overdosed on?” He asked as he pointed at Hanamaki with his thumb. But before he could get an answer, Yaku was already standing in a pose to leave and Daichi was quick to follow suit. 

“Oy! Why are you leaving? What am I supposed to do with that?!” Kuroo did not receive a better answer than a half-assed advice about forcing the guy to take a nap or to figure it out by himself. And then both of his friends were gone, Yaku as swiftly as he had appeared and Daichi in a casual way of ignoring everything that he left behind to the cafeteria. Kuroo grimaced at the thought of having to handle the slightly, as he glanced at his red-cheeked, giggling mess of a friend he had to correct himself, most likely quite mentally unstable friend so that he would get him home in a safe enough manner. ‘Geez, Makki sure can’t function properly during his hangover,’ was Kuroo’s thought as he stood up and flung his backpack over his right shoulder. He grabbed Hanamaki’s arm and tugged him to stand up and come along.


	2. A caramel latte and vanilla biscuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t need your money. I’ll take something else."

Hanamaki crawled out of a pile of blankets after gotten enough of his noisy cellphone ringtone. He was still at barely functioning state, a bit disoriented without knowing in which direction were the ceiling and floor and the fucking noisy phone that had disturbed his sleep. After a few tumbles and a weak-willed struggle of something resembling wrestling with the mentioned blankets, Hanamaki managed to get one of his arms free of the fluffiness and was able to push his head out to the general direction. He searched for his phone that was laying much closer than he had expected, and caught it rather violently.

“What the hell do you want?” Hanamaki grumbled to the speaker of the phone without even checking the caller I.D.

“…This is Akaashi. I’m very sorry to disturb you at midday…?” A tad bit mechanical voice answered after moments of delay. The voice was polite and seemingly a little confused but nevertheless genuinely sorry. It took a minute for Hanamaki to register the name and voice, but when he did he was suddenly very much awake.

“Oh damn, Akaashi, I’m so sorry. I was sleeping and I didn’t realize, shit is it noon already?” Hanamaki threw the blankets away and sprang out of the bed, looking rather frantic to find some presentable clothes from somewhere. He ran haphazardly between his joined kitchenette-living room solution and bedroom but without really getting anything done on the clothes front. He was still sporting black boxers and one grey sock, no memory of where that had come from, but he had no idea where his jeans were.

“Umm, Hanamaki? Are you okay?”

“Just peachy! Just… Mhm Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell me you’re not standing behind my front door?”

“Well…”

Hanamaki buried his face into his free palm to try to recover from his feeling of embarrassment.

“So I take it my doorbell is busted again?” Hanamaki asked, already knowing the answer though. He should have anticipated it. Akaashi would never miss an appointment and if there was no way of contacting someone he would definitely find a way to do it, impossible or not. Hanamaki cursed his inability to get things that needed to be done – such as fix his damn alarm clock or doorbell – done. Now he had troubled Akaashi and made a fool of himself. Again.

“Your doorbell seems quite old, so I’m not surprised to see it broken.”

“Yeah, sure, umm… thanks Akaashi. I’ll be out in 5 minutes.”

“Sure.”

Hanamaki ended the call and rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth in record time. He figured his jeans were going to be listed as missing for the time being so he chose to wear a pair of khaki shorts he found nearby. As an accompaniment to them he fished out a pale green cotton T-shirt with loose neckline and a navy blue and brown backpack which he stuffed with the stuff he deduced he would need. At the doorway he stuffed his keys into his pants’ pocket and stepped out to join the waiting Akaashi, so that they could continue onwards to wherever it was Akaashi wanted to take them.

 

 

“You want to go where?” Hanamaki wasn’t exactly convinced with Akaashi’s choice for their soon-to-be study-lunch. Mainly for the reasons that for one Hanamaki ha never even heard of the whole place and second what the hell kind of name was Karasuno?

“It’s a café and a mini-library of sorts. There’re all sorts of interesting books and the coffee is good. And not many people know of it, so there’s bound to be minimal amount of distractions,” Akaashi calmly explained. He was very used to Hanamaki’s way of living so it did make sense that he’d choose a remote and god-forsaken place to study so that Hanamaki wouldn’t get, as he said, distracted.

“Here we are,” Akaashi suddenly said and gestured towards a two-storey building in machiya-style. Above the entrance was a sign board with the name ‘Karasuno’ written with white on a black background. Hanamaki appraised the building to be in excellent condition, though it seemed to come straight out of the Edo era with all its’ sliding doors, wooden frames and mini-second-floor-balconies. Hanamaki didn’t even know that you could find such a well-preserved machiya-styled house from the vicinity. Granted, it was by a downtown alley that needed a small walk but still.

Silently Hanamaki followed Akaashi inside, feeling slightly intrigued by the pleasant creaking of the wooden sliding door. As it closed he turned his attention to the café’s interior and was shocked to see a western-styled café but not by far was it modern. It looked economical and inviting with its’ used furniture and design but also homey. It reminded Hanamaki of those British loft apartments that he had seen in interior décor magazines, only smaller in scale.

“Oh, hello Akaashi. You coming to see Bokuto?” The man who greeted them was wearing a black apron for men with simple design from the waist down and a navy blue button-up with rolled-up sleeves up to his elbows and on top of it a black vest with stylish straps on both sides of its’ middle-section. The man had boyish face with short dark hair and he was giving off a rather pleasant aura. Hanamaki deduced the man to be very suitable to the customer service type of occupation.

“Ennoshita-san, I ask you not to tease me,” Akaashi answered as he orienteered towards a comfy looking booth close to the book shelves he had mentioned on their way over. Akaashi’s eyes seemed to glitter with excitement the minute the book shelves entered his vision, but typical to his demeanor he did not act upon it. Akaashi had been like that for as long as Hanamaki had known him; always in control of his actions, careful with his emotions and always logical but above all kind. He was always thinking in the best interests of others rather than himself. That had for a while now worried Hanamaki, but he had not figured any way to change it. It was as similar a trait in Akaashi as a base code would be in a computer program. It felt like if you would try to change it, it would mean changing the whole being of what defined the person as Akaashi.

“Hanamaki?”

“Huh?” Akaashi’s question awoke Hanamaki from his thoughts of contemplating Akaashi’s whole being and seemed to be ever-so-slightly laced in concern. Hanamaki looked around and spotted the earlier barista standing by their table with a small notebook and a pencil in his hand, apparently waiting for him to place an order. That implied that he had already been inquired about it earlier and thus the concern in his friend’s tone.

“Oh, yeah my order, right?” The barista nodded.

“Mhm, a caramel latte? And vanilla biscuits.” Hanamaki decided, satisfied that he remembered his vow of eating something that would taste like proper vanilla, instead of that not-so-good pudding he had eaten a while ago. Though he had no idea whether it was possible since vanilla biscuits weren’t exactly a norm in café menus but when the barista didn’t say anything but ‘understood’ Hanamaki figured it would be possible.

After the barista had returned behind the counter to complete the orders, Akaashi opened his bag and brought out a few notebooks, a pencil case, a tablet, a pile of books regarding physics, chemistry, mathematics, clinical medical science and whatnot. Hanamaki grimaced. Studying was not his favorite pastime unlike Akaashi’s.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” Hanamaki groaned while sinking towards the surface of the wooden table.

“Beccause I covered for your attendance, which is, if I may yet again remind you, in serious peril.”

“…right.” Hanamaki glanced towards the exit and then at the barista who was silently but efficiently working behind the counter. At the moment, seemingly on either of their coffees. “So, what do you need me for?”

“As much as it annoys me,” Hanamaki whipped his head back to Akaashi’s direction so fast that he was surprised he didn’t have whiplash from the violent movement. He heard such a ridiculously rare words from his friend’s mouth that he was suddenly in disbelief if he even heard right or comprehended the language. “…stop with that look, I’m not a saint, I do have feelings,” Akaashi said after noticing his friend’s facial expression bordering ridiculousness.

“…right. Of course.”

“Thank you. So, even if it annoys me to admit, you’re a genius. And I happen to need some of that genius of yours to help me with this assignment. I’ll pay for your lunch so could you help?” Akaashi did not by any means sound pleading even with his choice of wording but kind of exactly the opposite. He sounded determined and like someone who had faith in his decision but only needed one last piece to achieve what he wanted. Damn, he was persuasive.

“Okay, okay. Let’s hit the books.”

 

 

“Shift change Ennoshita. Is Suga here?” A tall, over 180cm, man with short and curly mess of a hair sporting the same outfit as Ennoshita did walked out of the employees’ changing room the apron still grasped in his hand untied. He walked behind the counter before he started to tie the black cloth around his waist.

“Okay. Yeah, I think he’s in the storage room doing an inventory?” Ennoshita answered as he just finished wiping clean the counter. “I’ll just go change and then leave.”

“Sure.” The curly haired man lifted up a notebook concerning the orders that had taken place during the morning shift and quickly skimped through them to see if it had been a busy day. When he was reading the latest ones he just had to stop and wonder on the spot where it read ‘vanilla biscuits’. Did they even sell vanilla biscuits? He for sure hadn’t known that.

“Oh! And Matsukawa-san, don’t mind them. They don’t really seem to take notice of anything around them so it’s pretty much okay to ignore them unless they call for you,” Ennoshita called out from the changing room apparently in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, if the relative silence was anything to go by with.

Matsukawa glanced at the tables around the café to look for the people Ennoshita was talking about. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult. One head of pink fluffy huddled over one of their corner tables caught his eye rather quickly. The table was in a state of utter chaos and seemingly, so were the occupants. Matsukawa chuckled slightly. It was somehow a fresh sight in the café that was usually visited by regulars only.

After checking out the two occupants of the corner table for almost two hours Matsukawa decided to act based on some sort of rationalization that he should somehow help them to at least survive. He fixed a tray consisting of easy to whip up sandwiches and two cups of coffee, the other an Americano and the other a caramel latte. Then after giving a small conflicted semi-smile to himself for somehow ending up acting like a good Samaritan he started towards the Table of Chaos.

Matsukawa put down two plates of sandwiches to an almost empty spot on the table and then lowered the two cups of coffee quite straightforwardly exactly in front of the two men immersed in their books and notes. Mr. Pink Fluffy didn’t notice a thing but the black haired one stalled for a second and then lifted his gaze from a very complicated-looking sequence of markings from his notes.

“…we didn’t order these?” Akaashi said slightly unsure of himself. This made Matsukawa offer a small chuckle in response.

“Yes, you didn’t. It’s on me. You look like you’re about to keel over any minute,” He explained with politeness Akaashi had not expected from the man. His friends for one were never polite, if you didn’t count Suga. But Suga wasn’t in his immediate circle of friends.

“But I can’t do that. We will pay for these. Though, I do appreciate the thought.”

Matsukawa pondered it for a second until his gaze landed on a slight movement by the pink fluffiness. A certain thought popped into his mind, and he couldn’t help smirking. It was absolutely a terrible idea. But he liked it. “This should be interesting…” He mumbled very silently to himself so that Akaashi or his friend couldn’t hear him.

Matsukawa pointed at Mr. Pink Fluffiness, as he had dubbed the male, who was still continuing to hunch over the table and stare intently at his notebook. “Does he have some psychological issues? I mean, I’ve been here for a while and well, I sure haven’t tried to act in a stealth mode or anything and I think he should’ve at least noticed the latte he’s practically breathing…” He pointed out with his question, earning a momentarily confused look from Akaashi, which quickly dissipated as realization dawned on him.

“Eh? Not that I’m acutely aware of. That-“ Akaashi nodded towards his friend. “-is something that happens every time he gets immersed in something. I suspect his concentration power is off the charts. He won’t see or hear, nor notice anything around himself unless it has something to do with… eh… well in this case research,” he explained with a rather matter-of-factly tone. “Although, I wouldn’t rule out the minor possibility…He does possess a few…unique personality traits after all.”

Matsukawa took a moment to reconsider his earlier… idea of sorts. A male with pink hair that looked really fluffy to the touch, with a possibility for psychological problems and a ridiculous concentration ability? He couldn’t contain a small devious smirk from rising to his lips again. This sounded very interesting.

“Why are you asking?” Akaashi suddenly inquired, seemingly realizing that he had blabbed quite personal things about his friend.

“I agree to receive a payment for the refreshments, but I don’t need your money. I’ll take something else,” Matsukawa proceeded to gesture towards the much-talked-about friend.

For reasons unknown Akaashi seemed to figure something out of Matsukawa’s cryptic talk, though neither were completely sure if the other was right about their respective hunches. Even so, Akaashi smoothly stood up and excused himself to the toilet. Matsukawa gave a mildly surprised lift of an eyebrow to that but didn’t comment on it. It did make it easier to proceed with his idea without the extra company. Not that it was any grand idea in the first place. More like a practical joke.

Matsukawa leaned closer to the pink haired man and when he was close enough to take in the smell of strawberry shampoo and something vanilla, he halted momentarily. He was barely centimeters away from his right ear and then without wasting any more time, he went for it.

When something wet touched his ear, Hanamaki squealed in a way he didn’t even know he was able to. He jumped upwards attempting to stand and but on the way he hit the table with his waist and knees making the few precarious piles of books and papers fall over as well as a cup of coffee that he hadn’t even noticed being there. Or judging by the smell, it had been a caramel latte.

“Be careful, it was hot.”

“I know I am,” was Hanamaki’s instant, almost reflexive retort to which Matsukawa couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Wait. What? No. You bit my ear!” Hanamaki then exclaimed after getting his thoughts in order. He was covering his ear with his right palm, eyeing his assailant with narrowed eyes.

Matsukawa brought a hand to hide his lingering smile. “Indeed I did.”

Hanamaki was staring at him with eyes like plates, going through a mixture of feelings ranging from incredulous to embarrassment and confusion. “Why?!” He was practically waving his other hand without any deeper purpose but to emphasize his question.

Matsukawa didn’t answer. Well, truth to be told he didn’t really have a valid reason to give. But more than admitting that, it seemed to be more amusing to watch the pink haired boy squirm around in confusion. He took a dishrag from his pocket and started wiping the table clean of latte and tried to salvage anything worth saving from the earlier flood of coffee.

 

When Akaashi returned from the toilet Hanamaki was sitting by the table alone, nose buried in a notebook and muttering something grumpily.

“What happened? Akaashi asked.

“Who the hell is that?” Hanamaki pointed towards the counter where Matsukawa was now chatting with an ash-silver haired man who practically radiated a refreshing aura.

“Matsukawa-san and Suga-san.”

Hanamaki lifted his head, surprised. “That’s Daichi’s Suga? Wow what a coincidence.” He shook his head. “No, I meant the other. Matsukawa was it? How do you know him?”

Akaashi stared him for a second. “I don’t. It’s my first time seeing him.”

“But you called him by name?”

“He’s wearing a name tag.” Akaashi pointed out.

Hanamaki practically slumped onto the table. He groaned and messed with his hair with both hands. Why why why was an endless chant inside his head and he couldn’t figure it out. He hated it when he couldn’t figure something out. All the time people told him he was smart or a genius or something like it but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it at the moment. It never did when it mattered. It was extremely frustrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!   
> Aww thank you for your kudos <3 I appreciate it!
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter also! 
> 
> Oh, and I will take into consideration if anyone has some suggestions regarding future events. No guarantees though, I'm doing the suggestions because I'm interested in hearing what people would like to read about.


	3. School = Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sure, I suspect you stole it from Asahi.”
> 
> “Oh, please, Asahi’s too nice to be my victim. I’d feel guilty.”
> 
> Daichi eyed Hanamaki with an expectation that his story wasn’t finished. 
> 
> “But his friend was more than willing to loan it to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's been a long time, since my last update I know, I apologize. Here I have updated and corrected a few mistakes regarding accidentally introducing Yaku twice (hups) so the other appearance has been changed to Yahaba, hope you enjoy another witty character :)

Hanamaki stared over the rim of his glasses at his blonde pudding-head of a friend who was busy tapping at his laptop while being enveloped by a ridiculously big jacket and sitting cross-legged on a dark green beanbag. The cat-eyed male was muttering something complex and Hanamaki didn’t care enough to even try to make out what it was about, he just guessed it was some computer lingo he didn’t need to know. What he was interested in was the situation: Kuroo had just barged into Daichi’s apartment around an hour ago and literally dropped Kenma on the beanbag the boy was currently sitting in and then immediately sprinted off, slamming the door after him. To top it off, it was 10 in the evening and the only thing Kuroo had said was an utterance about someone coming to get Kenma later on. As if Kenma had been dropped to the babysitter’s, and in this case the quite obvious choice had been Daichi. Hanamaki snorted to his own thoughts. The funniest part had to be though, that Daichi wasn’t even home.

An obnoxious short melody interrupted Hanamaki from continuing to be amused by his own thoughts as his phone announced that somebody wanted to share something incredibly important with him. Namely a meme. Hanamaki smiled deviously and shared the meme on his dashboard but not forgetting to tag his friends who would continue to hate him for it.

“So why did Kuroo rush off like that?” Hanamaki couldn’t endure it anymore and decided to interrogate his not-listening-friend. Obviously he didn’t receive an answer. Just as he was about to ask again his phone gave off the same obnoxious melody. He glanced at the sender and couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“So you were listening. Is talking really so taxing that it is easier to send a text?”

Another short melody.

“Is that so,” Hanamaki grumbled as he opened the messages which actually didn’t contain any useful information. Only a short and compact “I don’t know” was displayed on the screen followed by an even shorter “Yes.” Kenma was the epitome of lacking in social skills.

Hanamaki slumped back into the comfy sofa Daichi had miraculously salvaged from a flea market a year ago after an almost fight at the neighboring bar where he had picked Hanamaki from. He had been beyond wasted after a quite awful break-up. A classic, really, Hanamaki had been dumped and then he had proceeded to drink his brains out. Oh and he had definitely succeeded in it. He still had no recollection of the events of that night, only what others have told him. He knew Daichi had almost been involved in a brawl over god knows what, but Hanamaki had no idea of the opponent nor the reason for it. Daichi had never wanted to talk about it. Neither had anyone else when he asked about it.

“Food.”

Hanamaki eyed the small pudding-shaped head which was half-hidden behind the screen of his laptop. “So now you decide to talk?” He received a nod. Hanamaki dragged himself from the sofa and headed to the kitchen.

It never ceased to amaze him, the kitchen. It was a proper kitchen, like the ones with all the machines like a blender, toaster, dishwasher, proper sized stove and all the stuff Hanamaki didn’t even know the names of. Daichi had put some serious effort into his kitchen and it showed: in the whole array of equipment and the tidiness. The man turned into a freaking Godzilla if anyone messed with the said room. Hanamaki had witnessed a certain occasion involving Godzilla-Daichi’s wrath and a scarred-for-life duo of Kuroo and Oikawa after a slightly failed attempt at baking cupcakes. Nowadays even the word ‘cupcake’ makes the two go as pale as a ghost. Truly a trauma that will never fade from memory.

Hanamaki eyed through Daichi’s fridge seeing nothing but healthy ingredients and sports drinks. He proceeded to open the freezer and found a frozen pizza on the top shelf. Satisfied, he snatched it, threw it into the oven and fished his phone from his pocket and started fiddling with it to pass time. No interesting memes or chats, even the Stories on Snapchat were boring. The boredom easily guided his thoughts towards a topic he had wanted to ignore.

A cute smiling and blushing drawing of a pale green cactus served as beloved wallpaper on Hanamaki’s phone and the blush seemed to be contagious. He felt his cheeks burn at the memory of a pair of wet lips and then a sudden shock of pain as an even line of teeth sank into the sensitive skin of his right ear. The worst part was that such an innocent act shouldn’t have made such an impact on Hanamaki. He was experienced and had definitely had his fair share of most of things sexual and since it hadn’t been the first time someone had bit his ear, he couldn’t blame it on an unexpected discovery of a new kink either. So why the hell was he so damn bothered about it?

Unconsciously he was touching his right ear, trying to trace the spot that had been the victim of public sexual harassment. And when his alarm for the pizza rang he got a borderline heart attack. He rushed to save the pizza and commanded his body to stop blushing, before delivering the gourmet-dinner to his friend.

“I believe I asked for food?”

“You do know that I can’t cook, right?”

“…I’m now reminded of it.” Kenma said as he reached for a slice.

 

 

“Why are you in my apartment?” Daichi asked with a monotone voice when he found a pink head hanging from his sofa’s armrest.

“I know where your spare key is,” came a muffled answer. Daichi suspected that the idiot was currently breathing through his pillow for a ridiculous reason such as unicorns promised to give him cookies for it.

“Sure, I suspect you stole it from Asahi.”

“Oh, please, Asahi’s too nice to be my victim. I’d feel guilty.”

Daichi eyed Hanamaki with an expectation that his story wasn’t finished.

“But his friend was more than willing to loan it to me.”

Daichi swore the pink idiot was smirking underneath that freaking pillow. He could place bets for it. “Wait, what friend?”

Hanamaki lifted his head and discarded the pillow, he looked at Daichi as if he should definitely know who he was talking about. “The rather good looking one, with lanky body build and blonde and black hair?” Hanamaki attempted something vague with his hands but Daichi ignored the action.

“Kyotani?” Daichi asked, pretty sure he wasn’t correct.

“Nope, not Mad Dog-chan. The taller, reeeeal self-confident.”

“Terushima?!”

Hanamaki shrugged his shoulders. “I guess? I dunno his name. Sounds annoying enough to be correct.”

Daichi wasn’t sure what to think. For one, since when have Asahi and Terushima been friends? He really couldn’t see them doing anything together. Asahi would be borderline scared of the pompous asshole. “Why was Terushima in Asahi’s apartment?”

Hanamaki shook his head. “Dunno?”

“Hanamaki, was Asahi in his apartment?” Kenma suddenly asked, after being completely forgotten by Hanamaki and not even noticed by Daichi.

“Now that you ask it, I don’t think so? The little ball of energy with the ridiculous hair was there though?”

Now it sort of made sense. Daichi wasn’t surprised that Nishinoya would get along with Terushima. The little ball of energy, as Hanamaki described him, would get along with pretty much anyone with an outgoing personality and a knack for mischief. Jesus, Daichi was surprised nothing was on fire at the moment because of the duo.

“And just for my own curiosity here, why is Kenma here?” Hanamaki directed this to Daichi seeing as the mentioned person was already immersed in his laptop again, ignoring all and everything happening around him.

Daichi was stuffing his fridge with left-overs from his part-time job as a chef apprentice in a nearby restaurant. He noted the aftermath of a pizza but was quite pleased that there was no bigger mess present except the pizza box. Hanamaki was a quick learner, especially when it benefitted him.

“Kuroo seems to be busy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“True, but it isn’t any of your business either?”

Hanamaki definitely wanted to address this difference in attitude from Daichi towards himself and Kenma. It just wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be on the receiving end of Daichi’s sassiness while Kenma isn’t even questioned?

“You do know you expressed that vocally?” Daichi stood there, hands on his hips and head cocked to the side, judging. Most likely determining whether the pink being on his couch was worth any of his time, or whether it was better to just throw it into the trash.

“That too,” Daichi said.

What if that would be the end of this beautiful being that has no compare in this universe? Unicorns and gremlins beware, this entity is coming home to the land of supernatural…

“Oh my god Hanamaki, I’m throwing you out.”

And as true to his words as Daichi is, he actually did it. Hanamaki was ready to act out the part of a cheating boyfriend from Sex and the city who was being thrown out of their shared apartment but was sort of interrupted by a staring passer-by.

The awkward silence continued without either of them saying anything nor doing anything to leave from the situation. Hanamaki wasn’t sure where to direct his gaze; on his clothes by his feet, the grey hallway of the apartment complex or the random stranger quite obviously staring at him. He chose the latter.

The stranger was rather tall in stature, around Iwaizumi’s height, but obviously shorter than Hanamaki. He had light brown neatly kept hair with swishy bangs and round eyes. He wore casual dark green shorts just covering his knees and a T-shirt with a proper collar and a few buttons. He was dressed very casual but made it look good. Though Hanamaki would place the male into the category for ‘shallow’ rather than ‘handsome’. It reminded him of the way Oikawa was definitely the very definition of shallow than handsome. Hanamaki was instantly slightly irked with the resemblance.

“You look like one of the Sex and the city characters that was just kicked out from his boyfriend’s apartment and now you’re ready to start a ridiculous racket. I’d like to advise you that if you do that and my boyfriend wakes up, I’m going to kick your ass. He’s grumpy.”

Hanamaki was surprised, definitely by the vulgar tone but by the fact that it had been more or less exactly what he had thought, among other things.

“Busted? Please be gentle, I’m kind of fond of my lovely ass,” Hanamaki turned his mentioned ass half-way towards the boy and patted it with his right hand.

The brunet burst into a controlled laughter. Hanamaki quickly followed suit but with a smirk on his lips. This person might be very entertaining, he thought. And Hanamaki was slightly intrigued by the way he could just casually mention having a boyfriend. That required some balls.

 

 

After settling into a comfy booth with a cup of caramel latte in his hands Hanamaki lifted his gaze to study better his new acquaintance’s expression. The man was stuffing his credit card into his wallet with slightly crunched eyebrows and pursed lips. When he was done and finally directed his gaze towards his ordered orange juice and then Hanamaki, he looked intrigued.

“I can see you want to ask, so just let it out,” Hanamaki prompted with a smile.

“In that case. A lovers spat with Mr. Sexy thighs?”

“So you know Daichi?” Hanamaki took a sip from his latte but the scalding liquid burnt his tongue so he hissed.

“Ah, Daichi is it. I live one floor above him so I see him around. You though, never answered my question.”

Hanamaki snickered at that. “Yeaaaahh… I’m not exactly Daichi’s type. He happens to prefer that refreshing pretty boy type that’s all angelic smiles and overflows with kindness. Doesn’t exactly describe me, not that it matters. Even though he has those awesome thighs and whips up the most awesome meals ever, but naah he’s just a fortunate friend.” Hanamaki finishes his explanation and to his own amusement he notices that his new friend seems to share his sense of humor at least up till now. The boy was smiling into his juice.

“Oh, I know the type. It is frustrating how men always seem to prefer the pretty, smiley and kind type. But hey, who would ever want a shallow and sarcastic pessimist with a bad attitude?”

Hanamaki noted a hint of irritation laced with loads of personal experience but chose not to chase the subject. Seemed to be a bit sensitive topic and Hanamaki didn’t even know his name.

“I just realized that I have absolutely no idea who you are.” The other male voiced out Hanamaki’s thoughts with golden timing. Hanamaki directed his index finger at him and smiled. “My thoughts exactly. You are obviously not a muggle if you’re that well versed in the art of mind-reading, fellow wizard.”

“Oh, just one of my unique skills. I’m Yahaba Shigeru, a marketing student.”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, well I don’t really have a major yet…” Hanamaki was suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. It happened every time the subject turned towards study matters and school related topics. He wasn’t confident with anything regarding it, people’s expectations or the norm you should follow to be considered normal. Hanamaki was indecisive and had nothing he was especially interested in. He was struggling at school, in many ways except the most traditional way so he felt his predicament to be rather ironic. Nevertheless, he was feeling anxiety slowly getting a hold of his breathing and he was wishing that he could escape from the situation. Or that something magical would direct Yahaba’s attention away from his vague answer.

“Are you alright?” Yahaba suddenly asked, concerned. Hanamaki was fiddling with his shirt helm and was feeling slightly suffocated. He wasn’t even seeing Yahaba anymore or hearing what he was saying, things started to blur from the corner of his vision and he was feeling a little sick. And he was definitely not helping himself by starting to overthink possible outcomes of the social situation he was about to ruin with a person he just met to boot.

“Makki? Hanamaki?” Somebody nudged Hanamaki’s shoulder slightly and after receiving no response he did it again with more power. “Takahiro!” Somebody grasped Hanamaki’s arm by his wrist and pulled so that he almost fell from the booth he was sitting in. This gave Hanamaki a route back to reality and he tried to focus on the man whose face was inches from his own. He recognized the sharp features and the face that’s usually in a permanent frown was now sporting a very concerned expression. “Takahiro?” He asked again to confirm if Hanamaki was really there.

“Yeah?” Hanamaki’s voice came out a bit weaker than he intended and he quickly worked to correct that. “Yes? Eh, Hajime? Why’re you here?”

Iwaizumi sighed, glad he had stopped Hanamaki’s brewing anxiety attack. He was pretty sure Hanamaki doesn’t even realize he suffers from anxiety attacks, the idiot always brushed him and Oikawa off when they worry over him and tells them that he’s “okay”. He never is. Iwaizumi has seen this happen more often than he cared to remember and what he can say was that after entering university they had only gotten more frequent and it worried him even more. Iwaizumi knew Hanamaki was starting to need help but they had no idea how to help him since Hanamaki didn’t even want to admit he had a problem.

“I came to have a extremely late lunch with Trashykawa, the idiot forgot to eat again” With a somewhat forced chuckle Iwaizumi nodded towards Oikawa who was actually quiet. He was just staring, saying nothing. Was he … scared? Hanamaki couldn’t deduce anything concrete from his friend’s expression. He hadn’t seen that expression before, it looked very foreign on Oikawa’s face.

“Oh, nice I guess?” Just as Hanamaki said it, he remembered that he too was on a lunch, brunch, evening snack? What time of the day was it even? Well anyhow, he was eating something at some time with umm Yahaba. Yahaba! Hanamaki whipped around to look at his newly acquired friend.

Yahaba was silent, he was holding his glass of juice in his hand, half empty. “Yahaba-san?” Hanamaki carefully asked. He was aware that he had been acting…weird and it wasn’t weird for people to get creeped out by him or something along the lines. He was also easily hated.

Yahaba put his juice down to the table, stood up and walked around it. He shoved Iwaizumi as if he was all fluff and feathers and stood towering in front of Hanamaki who was still sideways seated on his booth bench. Their heights were now reversed, Yahaba staring down at him.

“Yahaba-san?” Hanamaki tried again, feeling slightly scared of what to expect.

He received no answer for whatever his question might have entailed but he did receive something. Namely a bitch slap. To his right cheek. Hanamaki was, well, literally stupefied. The reality of the swift movement from Yahaba was finally starting to sink in when the stinging surfaced and Hanamaki had to lift his hand to touch the hurt area. It felt hot under his fingers.

Iwaizumi was about to jump Yahaba and drag the male away from Hanamaki but he stopped on his tracks when the round eyed man started his angry tirade. “You are an idiot! You could have said something! You scared the crap out of me! You look like shit! Seriously when was the last time you ate something?! I will get you a piece of pie!” Yahaba was shouting. Making a scene was an understatement but they were lucky the café wasn’t exactly populated. There were only a few other patrons besides them and Yahaba for one couldn’t care less even if there were more at the moment. He got really scared. He was a motherfucking adult man and he got so scared because nothing he said got through and he didn’t know what to do. Pathethic, Yahaba was practically chanting it to himself so that he’d never forget.

When Yahaba stopped his tirade everyone was pretty much speechless for a good while. The first to recover was surprisingly Oikawa who jumped at Yahaba’s neck showering the boy with something that could probably be taken as compliments. Iwaizumi was quick to follow in attitude but definitely not in action. It wasn’t exactly his style to hug and party. He was the one with grumpy image and he preferred to stick to it.

“…Umm I’m sorry?” Hanamaki was, well, confused, very confused. He had expected a burst of anger and some shouting and a disappointing tone or anything else similarly uncomfortable but not worry. From practically a stranger. It made him unsure how to act.

Everyone was looking at him for a change again, quite obviously with mixed feelings. “Thank you!” Yahaba exclaimed and freed himself from Oikawa’s clutches to grab a hold of Hanamaki’s collar. “I have no idea what you thought when you flirtingly befriended me but let me inform you, I’m a clingy friend and I have a zero tolerance for bullshit. Capiche?”

The first to laugh was Iwaizumi. He was cackling like a lunatic, leaning on the nearby table for support. Oikawa was smiling, not radiating per se but close enough. It took a second for Hanamaki to adjust but even less to forget his close-call anxiety attack. “I understand now how you have a grumpy boyfriend!” He laughed, obviously getting the last word in.


	4. Why me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you look long enough you start to notice things. Things that seem so natural that you usually completely miss but when you pay attention...
> 
> ***** Beware when walking alone in the evenings, the world's a dangerous place! *****

“You have been awfully docile lately.”

Hanamaki averted his eyes from the cheesy drama rolling on the TV to take a quick peek at Daichi who was doing something with a blue plastic bowl and a bag of spices and most likely a steak. Hanamaki hadn’t seen the piece of meat but he was quite sure it was there.

“Is that a question?”

Daichi didn’t stop in his movements nor did he regard Hanamaki with any extra attention. He just continued on spicing the soon to be dinner. “It’s an observation. It’s Friday and you’re lounging on my couch watching that god-awful drama even Oikawa wouldn’t watch. What’s wrong?”

Hanamaki flipped over on the couch and tucked a nearby pillow under his chest to support his head for a more comfortable position. “I think you’re more worried about the fact that me staying on your couch is going to ruin your date with Mr. Refreshing.”

Daichi stumbled on that and accidentally knocked over a metal bowl containing starch which blew a nice white cloud over the kitchen and Daichi. “Damn!”

Intrigued by the noise Hanamaki climbed out of the sofa and shuffled into the kitchen. He tried to muffle a laugh but was utterly incapable of doing that. The scene of all-white Daichi covered in starch and staring murderously at a metal bowl which was most likely the biggest reason for the mess was hilarious to say the least.

“I’m pretty sure I hit the mark on that one. And fine, I’ll let you be alone with your little date but I’m not helping you with the cleaning.” Hanamaki stiffled his laughter as he walked away from the disaster zone, not forgetting to immortalize it with his cellphone and send it to the people who would be most grateful for the laughs.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“Okay… Now I’m all alone on a Friday night…” Hanamaki muttered to himself after walking a good distance from Daichi’s apartment. With a golden timing his phone announced a message with the ever-so-obnoxious melody Hanamaki was about tired of hearing and contemplated on changing but never got around to do it. He swiped open his phone and opened the message. The name of the sender made him already doubtful of whether he even wanted to know what his business was but he did so anyway.

#Kaidou#

_There’s a party at Eguchi’s flat. Why aren’t you here?_

##

_Was busy._

#Kaidou#

_C’mon, get over here. It’s gonna be fun!_

##

_Fine. I’ll be there in 15._

 

Hanamaki stuffed his phone into his pants’ pocket and continued down the road. The subway station would be only a few hundred meters away and well he was dressed well enough for a house party with drunk university students. He didn’t really feel like partying but he was bored and didn’t want to be alone. And since Daichi had a date he couldn’t exactly stay there and get in his way. Daichi deserved happiness. The man went above and beyond for everyone, time for him to get someone and start to worry about his own love troubles rather than help Oikawa and Iwaizumi with theirs or help Hanamaki out of his messes or someone else. Daichi was always the support and refuge for pretty much everyone in their group of friends. Maybe it was because he was the most reasonable and rational? Or emotionally the most stable? Those could have something to do with it.

Hanamaki arrived at the subway station just as the metro arrived to the platform. He swiftly made his way in and checked the station map for the stop he needed to get off at. It wasn’t a long trip so he chose to stand close to the doors.

Hanamaki eyed the lights flashing by and after a few stops the car started to suddenly feel full. He hadn’t even noticed that many people getting on the car but now he had to correct his posture so that he wouldn’t bump to the passenger standing by him after every bump the metro did on the tracks. Pretty much useless effort though.

He drifted off thinking about Oikawa and Iwaizumi of all things. He had been kind of curious about their relationship for a long time, not that he’d ever in million years admit that out loud but in his own thoughts the topic was tolerable. Those two were what you’d call childhood friends then lovers. Cliché in a way but still mysterious. If you saw those two hanging out in public you’d know them to be close but based on their interactions rarely anyone guessed them to be dating. For instance, Iwaizumi often smacks Oikawa around the ears or calls him something insulting. Oikawa totally deserves that though. But Hanamaki had made a discovery recently.

If you look long enough you start to notice things. Things that seem so natural that you usually completely miss but when you pay attention, are rather endearing. Iwaizumi always walks by the roadside. Whenever Oikawa drags Iwaizumi anywhere, they’re always holding hands. At restaurants and cafés they never make separate orders, they both know exactly what the other wants. Every time Iwaizumi calls Oikawa something insulting there’s absolutely no malice in the words but afterwards a look of satisfaction on his face that is almost like an announcement that Oikawa is his. Every time Iwaizumi smacks him around the head his fingers linger just a moment too long in Oikawa’s hair to be considered casual. And worst of all are the looks they share and think go unnoticed by others. Hanamaki was sort of jealous of that type of a relationship. He has never known anything that … secure could be the right wording for it. He’s had a few relationships but nothing even remotely similar to Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s.

A bump to his lower back startled Hanamaki from his thoughts. The metro made a rather drastic curve so that the car shook and forced Hanamaki to take a stumbling step to correct his posture. He bumped into the salary man standing next to him and was then forced to mutter an apology. The man just shook his head and dismissed the apology. Hanamaki tried to catch onto his earlier train of thought but found it a wasted effort. And the topic made him feel depressed so he wasn’t that bummed by not being able to continue it.

Another bump to his lower back roused his attention. Hanamaki tried to see who it was or why but the only people close to him were another salaryman besides the one he had apologized to and an older woman who was busy tapping at his cellphone. Hanamaki wanted to snort at that. Middle-aged people complained about teenagers being “addicted” to cellphones and social media but it is quite often the middle-aged people who get seriously hooked to it rather than youngsters. Probably because teenagers were used to social media’s existence when older people are more likely fascinated by it because they didn’t have it when they were young.

A third bump was a lot lower than the earlier ones. This was already directed at his ass and more than a forceful bump it was closer to a fondling or some gesture vaguely similar. Hanamaki was confused. Was it still an accident? It had to be, right?

All of a sudden the speaker said “Beware of a curve” and just as it finished the sentence the car shook and turned abruptly leaving no time whatsoever for the passengers to prepare for it. Hanamaki stumbled towards the wall by the sliding doors, he wanted to avoid bumping into the same grumpy salaryman and while he succeeded in that, somebody else also lost his footing and came crashing at him. Hanamaki was pressed against the slightly curved wall and an older man who had by reflex put his hands on either side of Hanamaki’s head, most likely so that he wouldn’t have completely crushed him. Slightly shocked, Hanamaki tried to turn around but found it rather difficult. The man mumbled something, Hanamaki concluded it to be an apology most likely, and then the man lowered his arms. Immediately Hanamaki felt less threatened and relaxed slightly even in the uncomfortable place.

And then he felt something grind against his ass. It wasn’t a bump or accidental touch, but most definitely somebody grinding something against him. And it kept getting harder. Hanamaki needed no more to know exactly the situation he was in. But the absurdity of it was almost too shocking. Didn’t molesting happen only to girls? School girls or pretty women, right? Apparently not. Definitely not. Hanamaki felt beyond uncomfortable. He wanted out. Away. He felt hands on his hips locking him on his place and the grinding kept on becoming faster. Hanamaki felt his breathing becoming more hurried as his heartrate rose because of sheer fear. It was scary.

Hanamaki tried to brush the hands away from his hips but as he attempted it the man caught his right wrist and twisted it behind Hanamaki’s back. Surprised from the sudden action and the sharp pain to his elbow forced Hanamaki to bend slightly forward and press his other hand to the wall to prevent him from hitting his face against it. He felt the other hand on his hips to move and at first he felt fleeting hope that it was over but he was so wrong. The hand moved towards the front of his pants and with way too much ease it popped open the first and only button and then the zipper. The man thrust his hand into his pants, gently handling him with almost practiced ease. Hanamaki almost squeeled but managed to stop himself from fear of actually drawing attention to what was happening. The man was now fondling his front and still grinding on his ass. It felt hot. Hanamaki’s breath was becoming more ragged and that seemed to just spur the molester on. The man picked up the pace and even against his will Hanamaki felt his cock harden. It did not feel good. It was awful. Terrible. Disgusting. He kept repeating the word ‘disgusting’ in hopes to make it stop. But even his almost obsessional chanting didn’t change the truth; he was actually feeling it.

He was starting to get close and Hanamaki felt tears welling up. He wanted to cry but didn’t want to cry. He was a mess. “You’re a hot mess,” was whispered into his ear and that was enough to make Hanamaki cum. With the shuddering pleasure jolting in his muscles he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He refused to make a sound but couldn’t help himself from crying. Couldn’t it just end already? It was disgusting and shameful and dirty and he wanted to get away. The hot air was choking and Hanamaki’s heartrate was starting make him feel out of breath and light-headed.

But it wasn’t over. His molester left his front alone but moved to his backside. With almost sinuous movement he slid his hand into the pants and quickly found what he was looking for. With slick, cum-covered fingers he probed around Hanamaki’s hole that was already twitching from the earlier pleasure. “You’re enjoying this,” Hanamaki heard way too close to his ear and he shuddered. The man misunderstood the action as consent and thrust his finger in. Hanamaki whimpered. The man probed around almost like trying to familiarize himself with it and the he found it; the prostate. He fondled it a few times but then he added a second finger and started thrusting. Hanamaki was whimpering, face planted as he best could at his only free arm to try to hide it even slightly. His face was flushed pink and breathing was labored mess accompanied by occasional moans he was desperately trying to kill. Every thrust met with his prostrate and Hanamaki was starting to lose strength from his legs. The pleasure was piling up again but Hanamaki was determined to not to feel it. He was biting his lip with force, drawing blood.

But then with an otherworldly timing the speaker announced the next station and the man immediately stopped his action. He left Hanamaki gaping and shocked and as a last surprise the man wiped his hands on Hanamaki’s clothes. Hanamaki closed his eyes and as the metro came to a halting stop the man wearing a plain salaryman suit rushed out to the platform and quickly disappeared into the masses. With messed out clothes, tears streaming down his cheeks and trembling legs Hanamaki also stumbled on the same platform but as soon as he was out of the vehicle his legs gave out and he stumbled onto the floor. The metro left and the emptying platform left him behind forgotten, nobody gave him as much as a glance. That had to be the only comfort he could have found in the situation.

“Are you al-?” A male voice asked out of the blue but stopped in the middle of the question. Hanamaki just stared at the floor thinking nothing but the words ‘disgusting’ and ‘dirty’ which were swimming around in his head. He had been repeating them to himself endlessly in hopes to will his erection to go down. He felt sick. He wanted get the feeling of his hands off of him. But still he couldn’t help the gaping feeling that wouldn’t disappear. It made him feel even lower and like a worthless piece of garbage. He was actually left wanting!

With those thoughts he found a hand touching his shoulder. Hanamaki absolutely lost it. He swung around, trying to hit the man as furiously as he could but he had absolutely no strength left. It was hopeless. Is it going to continue?

“Oh my god. Can you stand?”

Hanamaki just whimpered. He didn’t want to stand. He refused to comply. Maybe that would make the man go away.

“Hanamaki? Jesus, can you hear me?”

Since when had the man found out his name? Horrible. Now he could be found. Was this going to happen frequently now? Why him? What had he done to deserve this? He was disgusting. Maybe his attitude had made him deserve it. He was used to playing around. Maybe he did deserve it. He had done disgusting things. He wasn’t talented like he was thought to be, he was lonely and wanted attention. He got it. Maybe that was the only type of attention he was worthy of.

Hanamaki felt hands reaching out towards his face. He felt the warmth of touch on his cheeks and his tears welled up again. The hands forcefully lifted his attention from the floor towards the man and Hanamaki wanted to stitch his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t have to see his face. He never wanted to remember what the man looked like.

“Hanamaki please. Look at me. I won’t hurt you…” The words struck the cord for anger in Hanamaki but the tone caught him off-guard so that he couldn’t shut his eyes on time. It had sounded like a plea and it had startled Hanamaki. Thus he found himself staring at a messy ball of dark hair and thick eyebrows crunched in worry. Even through tears Hanamaki recognized those features.

“Matsukawa…?” Hanamaki whimpered. His anger died the instant he understood who he was staring at. “Why…”

“Hanamaki what the…” Matsukawa stopped himself again. He cursed inwardly and started again. “Hanamaki, can you stand? Do you want me to carry you?” Matsukawa used a very gentle but easily understood tone. He gave Hanamaki time to make his decision but even with the time Hanamaki couldn’t answer coherently. Seeing that the man couldn’t stand Matsukawa opted for the plan B and gently tried to scoop him up from the floor. Hanamaki freaked out, but did it silently. He started whisking his hands around and tried to kick or push or anything he could think to get the hands off of him. Matsukawa ceased his attempt and caught Hanamaki’s wrists. “Stop. I’m not gonna hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he assured. He wanted to get Hanamaki away from public. The poor man was shivering and trembling and crying for a minute and then that was suddenly replaced by a hollow look. That hollow look scared Matsukawa. He hadn’t known the boy for long but he had the feeling that he was originally more vibrant and cheerful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for taking this long to update! I started University this autumn and I moved into my own apartment so my life has been hectic to say the least. But now I'm back again and Hanamaki and Matsukawa's story is going to continue again! Thank you for reading and all the kudos and bookmarks! I appreciate it!


	5. Mr. Unqualified Therapist with Intriguing amount of Knowledge regarding Sexual Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have no desire to start listening to some miserable asshole’s bitching about how his wife left him and he’s swimming in debt because of some gambling problem because mind you I don’t give a fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! It has taken me forever to update this chapter! Thank god for the Christmas holidays I had time and motivation to write this and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it. I have difficulties balancing the humor with such a serious topic but I feel like I managed. I apologize beforehand for misspellings and other flaws in the text, please do tell me and I'll try to fix them! OH, Merry Christmas by the way!

Matsukawa had no clue as to what to do with Hanamaki. He had only thought about getting Hanamaki away from public and into a shower, so naturally in a state of controlled panic he had figured that it would be best to go to his own flat. That way he didn’t need to offer any crude explanations to anyone and they could get some privacy. Something told him Hanamaki would rather rip his head off than be around some random strangers at the moment. Well he was a stranger too to be accurate, but there was no way he was going to leave Hanamaki alone in that state.

Matsukawa closed the front door behind him and stopped for the first time since the subway station. He eyed the silent boy who made no indication whatsoever to even acknowledge Matsukawa’s presence or the change in environment. Matsukawa directed his eyes to the floor and gulped. What should he do? What would be alright? He had no clue but figured showering could be it. “Hanamaki? Do you want to shower?” Matsukawa loosened his grip to better see Hanamaki’s facial expression but as soon as he did, Hanamaki buckled towards the floor. Slightly alarmed Matsukawa grabbed the other by his waist to support him again and to make sure he didn’t face plant onto the wooden floor.

Receiving zero effort on answering his question, Matsukawa frowned and kicked his shoes off. He helped Hanamaki towards his small bathroom that was more than ideal for a single man living alone but not exactly spacious for two adult men, especially when the other had apparently decided that an amoeba was his soul animal. Matsukawa practically dragged Hanamaki over to the small tub/shower and since letting go of the living Jello-man seemed to be a very bad idea if you didn’t enjoy cleaning some serious gore form the tiles every now and then, Matsukawa opted for a shared shower. He sat Hanamaki into the tub and was very glad the man didn’t slump down like melted ice cream when he slowly let go of his shoulders. He tried tugging at the dirty, slimy even, shirt but that received him an ear-shattering shriek and violent trashing. Surprised, Matsukawa reflexively threw his hand back to offer space and an indication that he hadn’t meant to startle him but in the process he swung his hand right at the rack holding the shampoos and soaps as well as his razor and other similar products in haphazard order stuffed into the small thing. The razor flipped and the thin glinting blades cut into the soft skin of his backhand making him curse under his breath from the twinge of pain. Red droplets ran down his hand dripping onto the tiled flooring.

In seconds Matsukawa forgot about his cut and returned his attention to Hanamaki only to find the said boy staring at the dripping blood. A short moment of silence ensued as Matsukawa was unsure how to proceed. Obviously him touching the clothes was a big no-no so then what? And that stare? It was sort of creeping him out. Concern was boiling in Matsukawa but so was irritation because he felt absolutely useless.

“Hanamaki?” Matsukawa tried, somewhere in his mind there was some hope that maybe Hanamaki would tell him himself what he needed.

Disappointed, but not surprised, Matsukawa received no answer. He attempted to stand up and leave, thinking that if he brought Hanamaki a change of clothes as some kind of nonverbal indication about showering and changing clothes it would encourage the other to do so.

But he couldn’t. Hanamaki’s hand suddenly darted out and grabbed his pant leg in a desperate manner. Matsukawa whipped around, startled at the sudden act. He eyed Hanamaki curiously at first but then registered the fountain of tears that had started to pour down the boy’s cheeks like waterfalls, hiccups rocking those slender shoulders and the desperate look in those mesmerizingly pale brown eyes tinting to pale pink even…

“…Help me,” Hanamaki pleaded with a voice close to a whisper, collapsing partially over the side of the tub as his grip lost its strength and his arm was about to drop to the floor.

Matsukawa dropped to his knees in an instant, grabbing a hold of the weak arm Hanamaki had thrust out. That strength despite the fragility was precious beyond all in Matsukawa’s mind but it felt like a twinkling little flame, about to die out. He was still unsure whether to embrace Hanamaki to comfort him or let him breath, luckily Hanamaki made that decision for them. He slumped over the edge of the tub and gathered his arms into a bundle on Matsukawa’s lap, crashing against his chest and crying his eyes out.

“Can I… Do you want me to…uh comfort you?” Matsukawa lifted his arms ready to comply with his own suggestion but with a few sniffles and shake of his head Hanamaki denied the offer. A bit more surprised than he thought he’d be, Matsukawa lowered his arms back down on his sides, not really knowing what to do with them or where to put them now. What he did do, was to be careful not to touch Hanamaki with his hands, apparently it made him uncomfortable. So he just let Hanamaki lay there, against his chest, tucking his head below his, into the crook of his collar bone without either of them hanging onto the other or cradling but just being there.

It felt odd, Matsukawa was arguing with himself inside his thoughts whether it was alright to be like this and whether it was enough or was he doing something wrong but even so he didn’t dare to move. He was afraid if he moved even a muscle Hanamaki would immediately retract and hide into his shell again. This was way better, at least he was crying, showing emotion. Even though every sniffle and hiccup felt like sting of needles into Matsukawa’s chest. He endured the emotional anguish. Hanamaki was the one who was hurt. Matsukawa was furious but he knew that it was useless at the time. He was useless. If Hanamaki could get even a shred of relief from crying at his chest he would do it any day anytime as long as was needed.

 

 

Hanamaki had almost fallen asleep after gotten tired from crying so much but the headache he got as an after-effect prevented that. He wanted to rub his temples but felt too tired to lift his hand to do that. And what’s worse, he felt that leaving Matsukawa’s chest, where his head lay listening to his steady beating of heart, would make him more vulnerable. He felt oddly safe there.

He felt shy poking at his left shoulder, timid movement and gentle ushering to pay attention. Hanamaki hesitated for a moment, dreading to meet Matsukawa’s eyes and see the disappointment, even the disgust perhaps. The poking resumed, slightly more adamant but ever-so gentle, making Hanamaki decide to steel whatever mental strength he had left and try to face Matsukawa. He reluctantly lifted himself from Matsukawa’s chest seeking support from the edge of the tub and finding out that his lower back had not appreciated the awkward position at all. It was aching and protesting the sudden movement but Hanamaki forced himself up into a sitting position nevertheless. He lifted his eyes from Matsukawa’s folded legs on the tiled floor, slowly, to meet his.

Shockingly, or disturbingly, there was no judgement nor disappointment in those droopy dark brown eyes that were borderline black in their color. Even though dark, emotionless they weren’t, not by far. They were, in fact, like fierce flames just about to engulf you whole. So much seemed to swirl behind those shiny dark orbs but there was nothing easy about deciphering all that. How could a person look so disinterested but passionate at the same time? Impossible to comprehend, Hanamaki gave up, the headache attacking full-on which made him groan quietly and lower his gaze ever-so-slightly.

“You should umm, maybe hit the shower before trying to go to sleep?” Matsukawa suggested, being careful with his tone and choice of words. Hanamaki frowned but couldn’t deny it. He really wanted to take a shower and wash away everything, in fact that had been the first real not disoriented thought in his head but all the other thoughts had prevented him from doing so. He didn’t want to see his body, he didn’t want see skin, feel or touch nothing. It made his skin crawl, stomach roll up into a twist and bile rise to his throat. But…he wanted to shower. He felt horrible. Ugly, dirty…disgusting. He wanted the water to wash all that away.

“…Yeah.” Hanamaki nodded, drawing out a faint but never-the-less a smile on Matsukawa’s face. The man stood up with some not so swift movements but as he attempted taking a step, he crumbled to the floor along with a breathy groan.

Alarmed Hanamaki actually bumped his knees at the wall of the tub but before he had time to react in any other way he heard a short bubbly laugh originating from the man in front of him. Hanamaki cocked his head at that.

Matsukawa turned to look behind him with a sort of wonky grin playing on his lips. “My feet fell asleep,” he admitted with a small laugh laced with embarrassment as he lowered his gaze. “Totally lame, sorry,” he continued while he started massaging the spots he had lost feeling from to ease the blood flow.  

Hanamaki eyed the curly haired man in front of him curiously. The man was truly bizarre. From their first meeting up till now there was not one thing that he understood. It was baffling. One moment he was polite but playful, rude and audacious and the next he was quiet and careful, gentle and understanding. A real box of mysteries. But before Hanamaki’s thoughts started to wander more, Matsukawa stood up and wandered out of the shower.

Hanamaki glanced at the showerhead above him, noting the western-style interior adorning the small bathroom only now. He had begged Matsukawa to prefer Japanese-styled interior over the modern and western. Something about the air around the man had made Hanamaki think that but apparently he had been mistaken. Something he had noted to be doing a lot lately.

Hanamaki shook his head again as he had just been reminded about the most recent mistake he had done. He stood up, his legs trembling like a newly-born foal’s but luckily not giving out underneath him. He removed his shirt over his head, dumping the disgusting thing to the floor before moving onto his socks and then stopping before his pants. He really did not want remove them but they were filthy. Everything was all slimy.

He frowned but went ahead with stripping himself until he had rid of every piece of clothing and stood under the shower fully naked, completely vulnerable. Before, he had not thought that being naked equaled vulnerable. In fact he had been very comfortable in his own skin. Guess mindsets _can_ change, Hanamaki thought grimly as he turned the shower on.

He let the warm water beat down on him and followed the trails of water down his body, onto the bottom of the cream colored tub and down the simple drain. It took a while for him to remember there being bottles of shampoos and soaps on the racket close by and as he glanced over, contemplating whether to take advantage of those or not, he heard a knock on the door. Startled, Hanamaki let out a pathetic whine that turned into mumbled curse as he slipped on the slick tub floor but managed to keep his balance.

“Hanamaki?” Came Matsukawa’s inquiring tone from behind the door, he had apparently heard some of the noise and was worried. _Worried?_ Hanamaki shook his head, couldn’t be.

“Yeah?”

“I brought you change of clothes. Shall I leave them on the vanity or…? Matsukawa left the question hanging in the air, knowing well there was no other place to put them than the vanity or his bedroom or so but he had an inkling Hanamaki wouldn’t appreciate having to saunter around the apartment in nothing but a towel.

“Uhm…eh…Can you…leave them behind the door?”

Matsukawa cocked his head, surprised by the answer but complying with it nevertheless. “Sure,” he said and laid the pile down. “I’ll be in the kitchen then,” he added and stepped away to give Hanamaki his privacy.

The pink-haired man sighed, immediately relieved that Matsukawa had respected his small wish and not opened the door. He did not want Matsukawa to see something that disgusting. He wouldn’t be able to bear the scorning look in the other’s eyes if that happened.

 

 

Matsukawa made coffee, very unsure what to do as he waited for Hanamaki to be finished with his shower. He was oddly jittery, nervous even and even though he wanted to blame it on the whole not being sure how to act around someone who was clearly hurt, he couldn’t deny that the prospect of seeing a shower-fresh Hanamaki Takahiro in his apartment, in _his_ clothes, was very very appealing.

Matsukawa cursed at himself and his lower part for actually reacting to the imaginary his seriously too active imagination so kindly provided for him. Now was not the time for that. Definitely not. Stay put you not-too-little mister, Matsukawa urged as he narrowed his eyes at the targeted member below. He did not want to give Hanamaki more shocking events for the day and if seeing a very eager boner as the first thing from the shower in a freaking kitchen nonetheless wouldn’t be one, Matsukawa didn’t dare to speculate what would. He wasn’t ready to risk it.

Thank the gods his little brother relaxed just as he heard the bathroom door click, some shuffling as he guessed Hanamaki grabbed the pile of clothes and then a subdued thud as the door closed again. Matsukawa turned around to lean on the small kitchen bar and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He studied the patterns on his mug, a gift from his little sister to celebrate his moving to live alone. It was a surprisingly pretty mug. It had blue and black swirls going around it like a depiction of wind and something that resembled leaves dancing in the said wind but Matsukawa was doubting the fact that somebody would draw leaves in blue. So maybe rain droplets then? Nevertheless, it was pretty and somehow made it seem more solemn. As he tasted his coffee he hummed. ‘Solemn’ huh? There had been a person once who had used that exact word to describe Matsukawa.

Just as Matsukawa was getting deeper into his own musings he caught a sight of a person in the corner of his eye. He lifted his gaze to meet with Hanamaki’s.

The man with a ruffled mop of pink cotton candy had a lowered gaze, eyes seemingly concentrating on somewhere towards Matsukawa’s kitchen sink, though Matsukawa couldn’t figure what exactly could be even remotely interesting in that area of his kitchen. The man wore a dark grey crew neck with long sleeves which sported the logo of Vans in the front in white lettering and black sweatpants that were slightly bundled in his ankles even though Hanamaki wasn’t a short man. Only a little bit shorter than Matsukawa it seemed. And apparently a size or two slimmer seeing as the waistband was slightly loose on his hips because the man hadn’t bothered to fasten the strings.

Matsukawa caught himself staring, hopefully not too blatantly, and turned to concentrate in the blackness of his coffee without milk. He hadn’t bothered with it. Coffee was alright even when black.

“You want some?” Matsukawa asked and took a swig.

“Huh?” Hanamaki glanced at Matsukawa, caught surprisingly unguarded with the offer.

“Coffee. Want some?” Matsukawa tried again but remembered then that the man standing before him had a ridiculous sweet tooth. “I don’t have any milk or cream though,” he then added.

Hanamaki cocked his head ever so slightly, contemplated the idea for a second. “…Sure.”

Matsukawa beckoned towards the bar stools and Hanamaki took the hint. He silently sat down on the furthest one away and kept his hands in his lap and gaze directed downwards. He looked as if he was waiting to be reprimanded, and perhaps he thought he would be, not that Matsukawa ever would. But the sight was grating at Matsukawa’s chest. He couldn’t stomach the fact that this man in front of him was really the same one as the one in the café back then. That man had been a concentrated disaster with evil glint in his eyes, pure joy to tease and genius with jokes. But this, this was an emotional wreckage. Broken, scared, almost lifeless even.

What the fuck? Matsukawa wanted to let out his frustration somehow but he couldn’t. He wanted to break stuff. He knew his temper was tolerable at best but you just couldn’t go bashing things in the presence of a jumpy kitten. Matsukawa settled for gripping his coffee mug tightly in his hand.

“Umh…”

Matsukawa immediately shoot a look towards the origin of the sound, startling Hanamaki to lower his gaze even lower. Matsukawa cursed, looked left and sighed. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

He received silence, which irritated him more, but he reeled himself in. What right did he have to take his anger out _on_ Hanamaki when he was angry _for_ Hanamaki? Damn he was messed up.

“Uh… the coffee…”

That snapped Matsukawa into the situation again. He had already forgotten about it. Shit. “Oh yeah.” He turned towards the coffee maker, reached to the cupboard above it to fish a mug and poured the hot liquid into it. He remembered owning sugar cubes and grabbed the box and delivered them to Hanamaki who hadn’t budged from his bar stool. “I know you like it sweet so… Use as much you like. As I mentioned I’m out of milk so… Make do with that.” Smooth idiot, Matsukawa scolded himself and returned to his own coffee.

Hanamaki nodded and fished a cube after cube from the whitish box and dropped them into the cup. He was careful not to spill any on the counter but kept doing it. Matsukawa counted at least five cubes and was starting to doubt that Hanamaki would be drinking it. Maybe he just liked the repetitive action?

After the 7th cube Hanamaki stopped and lifted the mug carefully to his lips. He blew at it to ease the hotness and then took a small tentative swig. I’ll be damned, Matsukawa thought. He didn’t even understand how those cubes even fitted into the cup, not to mention how on earth would it even taste anything like coffee anymore. It was nothing but sugar at this point wasn’t it?

Nevertheless Hanamaki kept sipping at it, seemingly satisfied with the taste so Matsukawa didn’t push the matter. Not the time for questioning his preferences anyways.

“So… do you want to talk about it?” Matsukawa tried. He was well aware that Hanamaki wasn’t in the mood to talk, but he spoke from experience when he said that speaking about it will help. Not in the way people think it would help but in the way that talking about it meant accepting it had happened. Running from reality wasn’t exactly healthy after all.

Hanamaki shook his head, not a surprising answer.

“Hanamaki… You may not want to talk about it but you have to. It’s… not good if keep denying it.” Matsukawa wasn’t good at picking the right words, he knew it.

Hanamaki glared at Matsukawa, the first time he even actually looked at Matsukawa’s face, and spat: “I’m not denying anything. And why should I have to talk to you about anything?!”

Matsukawa shook his head slowly. “That’s good then. And you don’t have to talk to me per se, but to someone. Just thought that it would be easier to talk to me. Because I know pretty much what happened already so you don’t have to explain the situation that much.” Logic was something Matsukawa was good at, he just wasn’t sure how Hanamaki would respond to such an outlook on the matter. Many emotional people did not appreciate it.

Even though still seething, Hanamaki calmed himself. Logic seemed to work. Matsukawa did a small inner ‘banzai’ at that discovery.

“So what? You wanna be my personal therapist now? I’m pretty sure I can quote Freud better than you.” Hanamaki had seemed to have gained back a little of his usual bite and Matsukawa wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh at the jab or groan at the difficult attitude the male had adopted all of a sudden. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“I have no desire to start listening to some miserable asshole’s bitching about how his wife left him and he’s swimming in debt because of some gambling problem because mind you I don’t give a fuck.” Hanamaki winced and Matsukawa hoped nothing he said hit a sore spot because he wasn’t saying it to be mean, but to be truthful. He seriously didn’t care worth a shit about anyone’s problems, he had enough of his own. “But you’re not a miserable nobody.” Matsukawa continued with a gentler voice. “I can’t relate but I can be here. I know I’m useless, but I can listen. So let it out. I’m not going to judge you. I may go on a homicidal rampage but I promise at least for tonight I’ll try to rein in my desire to ram a crowbar so deep in the creep’s sphincter that he’ll shit rainbows for the rest of his disgusting life. I won’t leave you alone. And mind you, I know my Freud but I prefer quoting Jung. He’s more poetic.”

Hanamaki stared stunned at the bed-haired man on the opposite side of the kitchen bar. His own anger had subsided under the angry tirade that he could easily understand wasn’t directed at him. Was the man serious? The words ‘I won’t leave you alone’ had struck harder than Hanamaki wanted to admit. Alone. Hanamaki had pretty much always felt alone. But he hadn’t really given it much thought. What was this half-stranger offering him? Friendship? Companionship? A relationship? Hanamaki couldn’t understand. Why? That he couldn’t understand either. He knew he wanted no relationship. He deserved no relationship. But maybe he didn’t need to be alone?

Hanamaki suddenly found himself letting out a snicker. Matsukawa sure had a way with dishing out a very descriptive imaginary with his wording. Hanamaki loved the crude humor.

“Geez, that imaginary I could have lived without, thanks.” Hanamaki breathed out with a very faint smile on his lips. Matsukawa had made him laugh involuntarily and suddenly he felt very tired. Like everything he had been thinking and what had happened suddenly collided together like waves and crashed over him. He felt insignificant and miserable but something in Matsukawa was anchoring him there. He wasn’t swept away by the violent waves so he could try and reach the surface to breath.

“Okay, Mr. Unqualified Therapist with Intriguing amount of Knowledge regarding Sexual Torture.” Matsukawa cringed at the naming since it overlapped with Hanamaki’s personal trauma he knew, but had to question whether that had been purposeful or not. “I’ll talk. But can we do it tomorrow? I feel real sleepy…” Hanamaki continued, his eyes barely keeping open.

Matsukawa contemplated this. Hanamaki seemed willing now, yes, but what about tomorrow? He could change his mind during the night. But then again the poor boy was clearly nodding off on the bar stool and no wonder he was so exhausted. Matsukawa bit his lip. He couldn’t decide. His eyes drifted to the coffee mug Hanamaki had plastered his fingers around at some point and was now holding it in his lap by both hands. The mug was empty, so even the caffeine and sugar rush wasn’t helping the boy to keep awake.

Matsukawa sighed and gave a resigned smile. “I understand. Tomorrow then. Come, I’ll give you the bed.” Matsukawa gestured Hanamaki to follow him but the other shook his head. “The sofa’s fine…” he mumbled to where Matsukawa just rolled his eyes. “Yep, for me. Now lift your ass and go to bed.” Hanamaki was about to argue but Matsukawa cut him off. “Either you go voluntarily or I’m gonna grab that perky ass of yours and forcibly tie you to the bed post.” Matsukawa immediately winced and cursed at himself for not being able to stop himself for saying it like that. He was quite sure the sexual jokes weren’t exactly appreciated at the moment, seeing as the words had immediate effect on the other male. Hanamaki froze on the spot, eyes like those of a terrified deer in the headlights and after a second he practically jumped out of the bar stool so it was teetering from side to side almost falling over. “I’ll sleep on the bed!” He almost cried out and all Matsukawa could do was apologize for the language and direct the poor boy to the bedroom and then leave him alone.

“Awesome, I just had to scare him just as he was almost smiling again…” Matsukawa muttered to himself and reminded himself to hit his head against the wall when he got back to the living room to plop down to the loveseat that left his feet dangling over the edge.


	6. Midday morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing is ruined, yes you’re an idiot. He’s not angry. Anyone would be annoyed. Bokuto you’re annoying. Yes. You are. MHM. Yes, I think he will talk to you again. BYE.” Matsukawa forcefully hung up this time after finally getting a few fractions of a second to do so. He put the phone to the coffee table and gave an apologetic smile to Hanamaki. 
> 
> “ ‘Morning.” Matsukawa yawned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you dear readers! Thanks to your encouraging comments I've finally finished this chapter, though I admit I was struggling with this. I just couldn't get it to be satisfactory no matter how many times I rewrote it. But here it is now ~~
> 
> This time one Bokuto Koutarou enters the stage and let's just say, the best parts are still coming ;) I hope you enjoy it and will be waiting for the continuation!

Hanamaki found himself staring at the rays of sunshine shining from the blinds at the comfy bed through one eye. He traced the hovering dust particles for a while, feeling groggy and utterly lazy. He couldn’t remember dreaming about anything but still he felt as if he had ran a marathon.

When his shoulder started aching from an awkward position he shifted ever so slightly. He turned his gaze around the room, taking it in. He was aware that he wasn’t home in his own apartment, he was aware that the comfortable bed wasn’t his, he was aware that the smell lingering in the bed wasn’t his. Hanamaki tried to make more out of the smell as it was clearly Matsukawa’s. He recognized it from yesterday when he had been crying to his chest. An odd combination of shea butter, coffee and something uniquely Matsukawa. Hanamaki wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not but something about it made him want to stay under the duvet and immersed in it.

Enough was enough and Hanamaki had to drag himself away from the fluffy paradise. He was hungry enough to suffer hunger cramps and his throat felt parched, like he had been screaming for ages. He had been sleeping in the oversized clothes Matsukawa had handed him yesterday and so he trudged out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, wondering why it was so quiet. It had to be past midday already.

When arriving to the living room and kitchen Hanamaki found his answer lying on a small two-person sofa, legs dangling over the armrest, other arm hanging from the edge and the other tucked underneath his head. His face was planted on a small pillow and his hair was a black curly mess sticking to every direction possible. Hanamaki noted that the small piece of furniture looked ridiculous when it was trying to house such a giant as Matsukawa. Even the attempt at a blanket had given up under the lack of space and had fallen to the floor, revealing Matsukawa to be wearing also the same clothes as yesterday evening, and his shirt was riding up, most likely from trying to move in the limited space, and revealed a very refined six-pack and a deep V-line disappearing into the pants. Hanamaki swallowed at the sight, not sure whether it was adorable, sexy or utterly ridiculous.

After deciding to ignore the mess of a human being on the sofa, Hanamaki wandered towards the kitchen cabinets. His throat was still hurting so he opted for a glass of water instead of raiding the guy’s fridge. Normally Hanamaki didn’t give a damn whether he stole other people’s food or not but something in him just said ‘stop’ when he tried to near it in Matsukawa’s apartment.

Gulping down the cool liquid known as H2O for which Hanamaki had easily memorized the very basic chemical structural formula when he was but 8-years old and was drawing it absentmindedly on the kitchen table with his index finger. When an oddly happy-go-lucky tune of the theme song for Totoro started playing Hanamaki almost choked on the water. He was startled by the sudden sound but also caught unguarded by the fact that it was fucking Totoro’s theme song. Was that Matsukawa’s phone? Hanamaki’s it for sure wasn’t.

Hanamaki eyed the room but couldn’t see where the ringing piece of technology was, but figured it was somewhere near Matsukawa as the sound originated from that direction. Hanamaki saw the mentioned man being awoken by the sound, grumbling something incoherent and trying to move somehow but the only thing Hanamaki could think of was an octopus that was tangled in its’ own tentacles. Ridiculous.

Just as Hanamaki was about to comment on the display the said being made out a weird noise similar to a choking walrus and fell down from the sofa, hitting his elbow on the small coffee table in the process.

Muttering curses and grumbling Matsukawa looked for his phone from the whirlpool of a blanket on the floor. His hand hit something hard and as he lifted the device to his ear without checking the caller ID the booming voice of one Bokuto Koutarou was assaulting his ear drums.

“…It’s way too early for this Bokuto, you’re gonna explode my eardrums, calm down.” Matsukawa muttered to the receiver, massaging his temples.

Hanamaki followed from aside as the conversation continued. Matsukawa made no real effort to keep it going but apparently this Bokuto person didn’t seem be offended at all, in fact the voice sounded absolutely delighted but then agonized at the next. What a busy person, Hanamaki thought just as Matsukawa had muttered his fourth consecutive ‘mhm’ to the phone.

Hanamaki lowered his glass on to the counter and the quiet clunk from the action announced to Matsukawa for the first time that he wasn’t alone in the room. He snapped his head towards the sound and seemed to be slightly shocked to see Hanamaki standing in his kitchen.

“Bokuto, I’m gonna hang up.” He muttered to the phone but wasn’t allowed to do just that quite yet, Bokuta had an argument.

“Nothing is ruined, yes you’re an idiot. He’s not angry. Anyone would be annoyed. Bokuto you’re annoying. Yes. You are. MHM. Yes, I think he will talk to you again. BYE.” Matsukawa forcefully hung up this time after finally getting a few fractions of a second to do so. He put the phone to the coffee table and gave an apologetic smile to Hanamaki.

“ ‘Morning.” Matsukawa yawned.

Hanamaki nodded and returned the half-assed greeting, only adding: “Though it’s past midday already.”

“No matter, it’s morning when I wake up, don’t care whether it’s 8am, 1pm or 7pm.”

“What an odd times. Something specific about those?” Hanamaki inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

Matsukawa shook his head. “Noup, nothing at all.”

Matsukawa rose from the floor and made his way towards the bathroom after giving Hanamaki free hands in the kitchen if he liked. Hanamaki answered with a joking ‘roger’ and a half-assed salute which made Matsukawa snicker as he disappeared into the earlier mentioned room.

Hanamaki didn’t even try to go through Matsukawa’s fridge even with the permission to do so. He was aware of how inept he was in the cooking department after all and he absolutely didn’t even want to see something like yoghurt. So he opted for hitting the coffee maker on and seating himself in the bar stool closest to the appliance.

He involuntarily drifted towards yesterday’s happenings in his thoughts. Hanamaki remembered stupid details about the car he was in, the rattling sound in the curves, the reflections from the windows, the hot breathing in his ear, the wandering hands on his skin… Hanamaki wanted to hurl. He felt something crawling all over his skin and nausea twirl in his stomach. He covered his mouth with his hand, even though such a gesture would be utterly meaningless in case he really hurled. He bent over from the waist, other hand in front of his mouth, other over his stomach, trying to will his nausea away.

Matsukawa returned to kitchen moments later to find Hanamaki standing by the sink, gulping down a full glass of water in one go. He cocked his head at him but said nothing, just walked up to the coffee maker when he saw it was blinking with happy green light informing that the coffee was ready. He poured the black liquid to a clean cup from the cupboard and glanced at Hanamaki who was now fiddling with his empty glass. The boy hadn’t moved from his spot by the sink and somehow seemed to be lost in thought.

“You hungry?” Matsukawa asked as he lowered his cup down after taking a sip.

Hanamaki jumped out of his thoughts to stare at Matsukawa then around himself. Just how deep in thought was he? Matsukawa thought but didn’t comment on it.

“Um, yeah.” Hanamaki then said, and Matsukawa could have almost sworn that the boy seemed a bit timid. Freaking timid? The man in front of him was well over 180cm tall, had freaking pink hair for fuck’s sake and the last time they met the guy had self-proclaimed himself to be a hot piece of ass. Which wasn’t incorrect in Matsukawa’s mind but that wasn’t the point. Would a man who said stuff like that normally act timid when asked if he wanted to eat? Was he bipolar? Split-personality disorder or something? Matsukawa had to stop himself before he ventured further in his speculations because he wasn’t sure he wanted to go that far. The timid answer, though worrisomely out of character, was surprisingly cute, and with that thought he wanted to bang his head to the cupboards. Not going to follow up that line of thought, he informed himself and moved to the refrigerator to seriously focus on something else.

“I guess bacon and eggs works?” Matsukawa asked as he went through his not-so-surprisingly rather empty fridge and deduced it would be either that or cereals without milk. Not sure how that would work but what he didn’t have he didn’t have.

Hanamaki just nodded and wandered towards the bar stool he had occupied previously. Outwardly he didn’t even seem too interested in the concept of eating but inwardly he was practically dying from starvation. He just wished staying still lessened the cramps in his stomach and that Matsukawa was a fast cook.

 

 

Matsukawa cleaned away the utensils and empty plates after their quiet breakfast. Hanamaki knew what was waiting for him but wished he could get out of it somehow. He really didn’t want to have the talk he had promised. After sleeping on it and thinking about it he figured it would be just alright, he could handle it alone without talking. And above all, he didn’t want anyone to know. Not even Matsukawa and the man already knew the general gist of it. What would he do when he knew everything? Why did Matsukawa need that information in the first place? Was he a pervert? Did he have a rape-kink or something? Hanamaki really didn’t want to think of it as rape. Nothing crucial entered after all so it couldn’t be classified as rape, right?

Hanamaki shook his head. He couldn’t really make himself believe any of the negative thoughts he speculated about Matsukawa. He just didn’t strike Hanamaki as such a person to purposefully use anything Hanamaki would tell him in a hurtful way.  

With one glance Matsukawa knew how worried Hanamaki was about the forthcoming conversation and he couldn’t deny that he too was worried about it. But he just had the feeling that it was important to have it. Just like he should have had before when…Noup, not going there. Matsukawa forcefully stopped his train of thought once again. It wasn’t about him right now, it was about Hanamaki.

“What if we talked in the living room? I have the feeling this might take a while…” Matsukawa suggested as he scratched the back of his head slightly troubled. Hanamaki looked still worried but nevertheless agreed and followed Matsukawa the few steps to the living room. Matsukawa directed Hanamaki to the loveseat that had worked as his makeshift bed last night and he himself plopped down onto the lonely excuse for an armchair. With this seating arrangement Hanamaki relaxed a little bit.

After spending close to 20 minutes in total silence, Matsukawa decided to break the ice. “It’s not like me talking is gonna take this forward but I think you’re overthinking this? Like my part in this. Like umm just talk? Like I don’t mean you need to give me a report of everything that happened or anything like that just say what you’re thinking?”

Hanamaki stared at the man on the armchair, squirming with his hands and looking about everywhere in the room but at the loveseat. Obviously it was an uncomfortable situation for him too. But he was trying, he was putting forth effort for Hanamaki’s sake, even though they were pretty much strangers. In reality Matsukawa had absolutely no need to be here listening and trying to help but that was what he was doing. It might be noisy, definitely annoying because it felt oddly coddling but Hanamaki weirdly enough didn’t completely dislike that kind of a personality.

“Alright, Dr. Phil. I’ll give it a shot.”

Matsukawa smirked at the naming but remained quiet to give Hanamaki the few seconds he still needed to ready himself.

“I have no recollection how I got here from the subway station, or which station I even got off from. My head was…quite jumbled. Still is, a bit. I seriously don’t know what to think or say. I’m just okay. It’s happened, it’s over –“ _Is it really?_ Hanamaki had to ask himself, for he still felt like the man would suddenly pop up from somewhere and just continue. “and I’ve gotten over it. Or I’ll get over it. I’ll get over it when I don’t have to go through it all the time. If you’d just let me forget it.”

Matsukawa stared at the man fidgeting on his sofa, feeling mostly doubt over his words. There’s no way he was over it already. Nobody recovered that quickly and when he was reminded of the lifeless shell of a person from yesterday it just seemed like a joke. But was Matsukawa making it worse by forcing him to practically relive the moment now? Was it too soon? Maybe.

“I think we both know that it’s not something you can just forget overnight.” Matsukawa pointed out, making Hanamaki grimace in his seat. “I’m telling you to accept it and deal with it, not forget it. Believe me I know there’s a difference.”

“BELIEVE YOU?!” Hanamaki jumped up from the sofa, hands fisted by his sides and eyes flaming.

Matsukawa grimaced. Yep, definitely a bad wording. That was a landmine just waiting to happen.

“What the fuck do think you know?! You have no idea! NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE!” Hanamaki raved on, absolutely furious but Matsukawa wasn’t sure if the man was seeing him anymore. It felt like he was shouting at somebody else but the words for sure were directed very much so towards Matsukawa.

“Yeah-“

“Don’t you dare to say that! Don’t patronize me! You don’t even know me! You’re a damn stranger! You know nothing about me!”

“Hana-! Tru-“ Everything Matsukawa tried to say was cut short by Hanamaki so he had no chance to correct himself. And the more Hanamaki went on in his shouting the more out of context it became and ludicrous.

“Who the hell do you think you are!? What fucking right do you have to tell me what to do and what to think?! Who the hell died and made you the Oprah fucking Winfrey of gay rape?!”

“TAKAHIRO!” Matsukawa’s voice boomed in the cramped living room, shocking Hanamaki enough to finally silence him.

Hanamaki winced at the look Matsukawa gave him and immediately locked his eyes onto the floor. He seemed to only then realize what he had said and embarrassment plus terror seized him. Saying it out loud was pretty much the same as admitting it! There’s no way he’d ever admit it!

Matsukawa sighed to calm down before he could proceed to voice himself. Apologizing would probably be the best but that could too easily start another difficult conversation which most likely would give Hanamaki another reason to blow up because of bad wording and misunderstanding so Matsukawa opted for ignoring his earlier plunder. Instead he grabbed onto the only real revelation Hanamaki had given him. “Were you raped, Hanamaki?” If so, if it had gone that far this needed police interference Matsukawa decided. It wouldn’t be on a level that could be dealt like this. No matter how much Hanamaki wanted to keep it as a secret.

“NO! Who would-! There’s no way-! What is wrong with you!” Hanamaki tried everything to figure out an excuse but all he could was dish out insults in a false bravado of rage. He wasn’t a victim! He didn’t want to feel like a victim!

“Takahiro.” Matsukawa stressed again, seeing as the man wouldn’t give him an honest answer. “Tell me the truth.” Hanamaki just stared at Matsukawa refusing to say anything.

“If you were raped, we need to inform the police and get you to a hospital.” Matsukawa informed him and that literally jump-scared the man.

“NO!”

“Tell me the truth then.”

“I wasn’t! It didn’t…. It wasn’t… He didn’t-!” Hanamaki couldn’t say it. How embarrassing would it be! How utterly disgusting!

Matsukawa’s own feeling of urgency was getting the best of him because he hadn’t thought that it could have escalated that far in a crowded metro. Hanamaki was fully clothed when he had found him after all. Ruffled though but he was wearing everything. He hadn’t been raped, right?!

“He didn’t what?” Matsukawa prompted for an answer, not able to completely erase the tone of urgency from his voice.

Hanamaki looked like he’d cry any moment but was still holding back. “He didn’t put it in!” Hanamaki finally practically shrieked and covered his face with his hands, whether to hide his tears or embarrassment Matsukawa couldn’t say because he was too occupied at being shocked. He was shocked that it took him over 5 seconds to realize what ‘it’ and ‘in where’ had referred to and also because the man in front of him covering his face was looking once again too cute for Matsukawa, even in this situation which held absolutely no room for such thoughts.

Just as Matsukawa was close to figuring out how to answer to such a revelation, his phone went off, playing a well-known tune from Star Wars. The caller ID exhibited once more Bokuto’s name and Matsukawa really didn’t want to talk to him again. But if he ignored the idiot he could pop up onto his doorway just because he thought Matsukawa had lost his phone and needed help finding it without anyone even asking him to. Matsukawa knew that from experience. Involuntarily he picked up the phone after giving a short apology to Hanamaki.

“MATSUKAWAA!!”

“Stop shouting.”

“Matsukawa!”

“That’s still considered shouting.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway, what do you need? I’m a little busy right now…” Matsukawa wanted to end the call as soon as possible and he definitely didn’t want Bokuto to know of his circumstances.

“I have a date!”

“Yeah, yeah… What?!” Who the hell would he go on a date with? Matsukawa was bewildered. Didn’t he just have a phone call with Bokuto about how he did something idiotic to make Akaashi angry? Wait, seriously who was he having a date with?

“With who?”

“Akaashi!”

“How?!” That was unbelievable. Matsukawa knew Bokuto had been interested in the smart beauty since the very first time he saw him in Karasuno café but so far the pretty boy hadn’t really given him the time of the day. Or had Matsukawa missed something? Well obviously he had if they were going on a freaking date. Like wow. Akaashi really? Matsukawa was starting to doubt Akaashi’s taste in men. Well, he didn’t even know Akaashi had a taste for men in the first place.

“You are being mean! Ugh forget it that for now, I need help! WHAT DO I DO?!” Bokuto was practically whining on the other end.

“I don’t care, it’s your date. Do what you normally do on dates.”

Hanamaki was eyeing Matsukawa with sudden interest after he thought he heard a familiar name in the other man’s conversation. Did they mention Akaashi? Couldn’t have, right? Hanamaki had gathered that the topic revolved around somebody’s date, perhaps involving Akaashi even but other details he couldn’t make out. And the fact that Akaashi might have a date was such a huge surprise to Hanamaki that he felt outright baffled. He didn’t even know Akaashi was involved with someone!

Hanamaki’s curiosity took the best of him and he just had to confirm. “Did you say ‘Akaashi’?”

Matsukawa turned to look at Hanamaki, missing half of what the pink-head said and half what Bokuto was complaining about. Multitasking never was his forte. “Sorry?”

Hanamaki repeated his question after Matsukawa ordered the frolicking idiot of an owl to shut his mouth for a second. “Yeah, actually…” It took a second for Matsukawa to remember that the very reason he was even acquainted with the pink mess on his sofa was in fact entirely because Akaashi had brought him over to the café. “Oh yeah, you’re friends with Akaashi, weren’t you. I completely forgot.”

Hanamaki nodded. “But I didn’t know he even had anyone he was interested in. Well, he’s not exactly the type to go and tell people even if he were, now that I think about it.” Matsukawa returned the nod. “You said he has a date? With whom? I’m really interested in who can get Akaashi to agree on it. Believe me, there’ve been triers but he has shot every one of them down mercilessly this far.”

Matsukawa gave a short laugh. “A simpleton who is bad at giving up?” He wasn’t sure how to describe Bokuto. The man was an idiot for sure but also a good guy. No one was capable of outright hating the man, he was one of those who are naturally liked by people. But Matsukawa really couldn’t see Bokuto with someone like Akaashi. Talk about out of his league. Akaashi was literally beauty on legs, even Matsukawa had to admit that.  

“…Don’t you feel like going to see how that date will turn out?” Hanamaki suddenly asked with a playful glint to his eyes that Matsukawa found unexpectedly attractive. That accompanied with a twisted smirk suited Hanamaki much better than the look of fragility which he had been trying to mask with anger earlier during their talk.

Matsukawa just couldn’t say no to him. No way was spying on someone’s date his hobby or even remotely interesting but his excited partner-in-crime was more than a reason enough to go. Well, Bokuto can just blame himself for whatever was going to happen. Matsukawa smirked, he was itching to play a prank or two for the loud idiot who had interrupted them in the first place.


	7. Misplaced jealousy

”This is really cliché.” Matsukawa pointed out, seeing as they were crouching behind a row of bushes, peeking over them at Bokuto, who in turn was fidgeting before a statue of some dude who was famous for something Matsukawa didn’t even care about.

“No shit, I can already imagine the conversation. First Akaashi apologizes and says: ‘I’m sorry, did you wait for long?’ and then that whatshisname apologizes and says: ‘No, I just got here’ even though he’s been there fidgeting like a poodle dying from alcohol poisoning for the past hour or so.” Hanamaki huffed, his fluff of pink bobbing up and down like cotton candy waved by an overexcited child as he bounced on his squatted legs. Matsukawa figured his legs were sore because of the hiding pose his long body wasn’t suited for and thus the random bouncing.

“No- Well that too, but what I meant was that we are quite the cliché.” Hanamaki gave Matsukawa a tilt of his head as to indicate that he still didn’t get it. “You know this whole hiding behind bushes and stalking a friend’s date thingy? It happens a lot in shoujo mangas and stuff.” Matsukawa explained, painfully aware of the strange looks they were gathering from the surrounding population who were going about their day in a normal fashion. Most definitely not expecting to see two over 180cm tall university students squatted behind bushes in broad daylight. Yep, nothing unusual about that in the middle of a bustling city. Happens every day. Matsukawa just hoped nobody would report them.

“I’ve always wanted to be a chick-flick protagonist.” Hanamaki suddenly informed and started to gush on about the latest movie he watched and how the chick in it had the most awesome stilettos accompanied with a fuck-you attitude Hanamaki obviously felt camaraderie with. “And can you believe it? She just up and smacked him with that purse right to his face and when he fell over on his arse she stepped up and struck her brand new high heels right where the asshole’s Nemo-sized dick was so that he’d never be able to use it again.” Hanamaki animatedly continued, gesturing with his hands and flicking his short fringe occasionally when it obstructed his view. He had seemingly forgotten where he was and why and Matsukawa had to ponder on the boy’s attention span. Was this really the same person as the one with a nose so stuck in incomprehensible books in the café that he didn’t move for 4 hours or so?

Matsukawa caught sight of Akaashi’s curls from the corner of his eye and seeing as he held no immediate alternate options he roughly tackled Hanamaki as the bubble of distraction was about to act out the scene he earlier mentioned and regardless of the rather disturbing contents, he was about to be noticed by Akaashi if he wasn’t stopped.

“Oh what the-!” Matsukawa smacked his hand over Hanamaki’s mouth and whispered him to be quiet because Akaashi was there and although Bokuto was beyond oblivious, Akaashi was a person who could be a clairvoyant and Matsukawa wouldn’t even be surprised. Hanamaki stilled at the order, glancing in the direction the oh-so-amusing date was happening and wanted to squeal at the cuteness he witnessed. Akaashi was dolled up in a very attractive but simple black dress-shirt with sleeves rolled up just below elbows and strapped with a cute white button. He wore platinum gray slim-fit jeans with 10cm long gunmetal gray zippers on his both pant legs as a decorative detail. He donned a pair of stylish black shoes that looked almost new and as a cherry to the top he had black studs on his both ears replacing the usual silvery ones. Their conversation was practically a copy of what Hanamaki had speculated earlier, if not taking into the account the amount of blushing the two were exhibiting. Hanamaki had never really pegged Akaashi as the type to blush that easily. It was so freaking adorable!

“Are you really sure it was chick-flick you watched?” Matsukawa inquired, still a bit disturbed by Hanamaki’s enclosure of the events of the movie.

Hanamaki let out a muffled: “Huh?” and looked back at the man literally lying on top of him. “Of course it was. Did you forget the stilettos?” Matsukawa shook his head. “High heels don’t automatically make the movie into a chick-flick, you know.”

“Shush! They’re moving!” Hanamaki whispered the exclamation and started wiggling under Matsukawa. “Get off me you eyebrow monster, we’re gonna lose them!” In the process of gathering himself from the ground Hanamaki accidentally slugged Matsukawa into the jaw and then elbowed him to the abdomen making the poor guy mumble profanities directed at nobody.

When finally in a relatively upright position Hanamaki sprinted after the couple and Matsukawa trailed after him while massaging his violated body parts. The man was crazy, Matsukawa decided, as he witnessed him pressing his nose into a display window of the movie theater where Bokuto and Akaashi had entered. The window was exhibiting the poster of a new Star Trek movie and Matsukawa wasn’t sure whether the fluffy-head wanted to follow the progress of the date or just really watch the movie himself.  Nevertheless they followed inside, after Matsukawa paid for their tickets seeing as Hanamaki had just barged in completely ignoring the poor box office boy who had just tried to do his job. Matsukawa had to apologize to him and give him an apologetic smile, throwing a casual joke on Hanamaki’s expense to make the boy laugh nervously and then wave to him as he chased his pink-haired lunatic into the theater.

Matsukawa found Hanamaki slouched at the red velvety seats, five rows behind their targets, eyes glued to the screen which only displayed ads at the moment. He quietly offered the bowl of popcorn he had bought to Hanamaki and when the boy laid eyes on it, Matsukawa saw them glittering with joy. Hanamaki let out a hushed ‘yummy’ as he attacked the bowl and satisfied with himself Matsukawa plopped down to the seat next to him. He glanced at Bokuto and Akaashi, noticing how awkward Bokuto was with the attempt to touch Akaashi’s hand without it seeming to deliberate but seriously? It’s Bokuto. Matsukawa reckoned that the over-energetic idiot doesn’t even understand the concept of being subtle.

Bokuto kept nearing Akaashi’s hand, which lay across the armrest between the two, for nearly five minutes but without any results. And when Akaashi looked over at him Bokuto retracted his hand so fast he sent his – luckily unopened – bottle of coke flying towards the people sitting a few seats over. Apologizing he went to retrieve the object from the confused people. During it all, Matsukawa noted a faint smile playing on Akaashi’s lips. And when Bokuto managed to sit back down and securing the bottle so that it wouldn’t accidentally fly off again, Akaashi took the initiative. And he was super smooth about it and just entwined their fingers in one gesture and brought them to the armrest, without even glancing at the mess of a man next to him. After that Bokuto was putty in Akaashi’s hands.

Around halfway through the movie, which Matsukawa didn’t have the interest to follow enough to even know what it was about, he started observing the living cotton candy man next to him. Hanamaki had emptied the huge bowl of buttery popcorn pretty much alone, Matsukawa made a mental note to protect his share a bit more actively next time, and was now biting on the sleeve of his shirt, which in turn he had borrowed from Matsukawa seeing as he absolutely refused to lay eyes on his own clothes anymore. He had his eyes glued to the screen, living along the events of the movie as if they were part of his own life.

Hanamaki was extremely expressive in emotions, even more so when it came to movies it appeared. Matsukawa was feeling relieved at seeing this side of Hanamaki. This man was interesting and full of life, giggling at a joke without restraint and arguing with the characters with no care about other people watching the movie. Matsukawa also couldn’t ignore the fact that seeing Hanamaki in his clothes was a major turn on. He was starting to get seriously worried about his libido going haywire. It has been a long time since he had actually felt anything with his little brother down there and thus he had even begun to think if he was becoming asexual since nothing affected him but it’s not like you can just ‘become’ one, right? And well, the current situation in the seat next to him, with Hanamaki curling up and hugging his knees in those slightly baggy clothes borrowed from Matsukawa, was quite literally doing miracles to his sex drive. Matsukawa was starting to become concerned whether he could be arrested for public indecency at some point for sporting a quite visible boner in public because of the pink-headed troublemaker.

After finishing the movie and being dragged by Hanamaki after the Bokuto-Akaashi couple for around two hours Matsukawa was drained. He hadn’t had that much activity for a long time and rather than saying that his body was tired, it was his head. He was still continuing with his rehabilitation and basic training to keep his body fit. He was born for sports and even when the amount of training seemed masochistic for others he was doing it way more gladly than lying around in bed unable to do anything. His mental stamina was completely another story. He was a bit too used to his loner-status so the amount of socializing was overwhelming to him. And even though he hung out with Bokuto, he mostly ignored the male so that couldn’t exactly be counted as socializing he guessed.

“That guy is making Akaashi smile a lot…” Hanamaki muttered as they watched the couple walking down the street. Granted the male with the weird hairdo was fidgeting and waving hands like crazy whenever he talked, apparently trying to emphasize his point. And he didn’t seem to be able to shut up. At all. Hanamaki wondered if that man would be the embodiment of the word ‘chatterbox’. He was literally talking his head off, half of the stuff that came out of his mouth was utterly ridiculous and the rest just plain silly. But he was kind and gentle. In a different way than for example Akaashi was gentle but still.

Soon Matsukawa noted a change in Hanamaki’s actions. After muttering something, he suddenly became quiet and absorbed in his own thoughts. “Hanamaki?” Matsukawa inquired seeing as the male was staring at a pole of a street lamp very intently at the moment.

“Let’s leave.” Hanamaki suddenly announced and turned around on his heels and started walking towards the direction they originally came from. Matsukawa was starting to get a confirmation for his earlier speculation about Hanamaki’s mental state; the man had to be bipolar.

“What’s wrong?” Matsukawa asked after a few moments. They were walking towards the direction his flat was in and Hanamaki was quiet. When Matsukawa was about to ask again a voice shouting Hanamaki’s name interrupted him. Hanamaki halted in his tracks and Akaashi jogged up to him. Matsukawa followed their interaction from the sideway, figuring he shouldn’t intervene.

“You haven’t been answering messages since yesterday! Calls don’t even go through and Daichi was asking about you and saying something about you being pissed off.” Akaashi rarely raised his voice so this took Hanamaki by surprise. He couldn’t figure what Daichi had meant by him being angry, in fact he had completely even forgotten about Daichi and his date which had been why he had been kicked out in the first place. But he hadn’t been pissed at all though? Daichi deserved a nice date.

While Hanamaki was lectured by Akaashi about why disappearing like that wasn’t okay, Bokuto had appeared on the scene. He first spotted the two and was about to approach them even without knowing who Akaashi was talking with, but Matsukawa stopped him by grabbing him by his shoulder. “Don’t interrupt them. That’s important.” Matsukawa sort of clarified. Bokuto looked at him questioningly but Matsukawa explained no further. He respected Hanamaki’s privacy and something told him that under no circumstance would he appreciate anything being told to anyone, especially strangers, regarding his life.

Matsukawa saw Bokuto uncharacteristically scowl at him because obviously he didn’t approve of being left out of the loop but didn’t comment on it. He had probably deduced from Akaashi’s expression that whatever the reason, it was important and personal. Though it obviously made Bokuto slightly sad that Akaashi didn’t count him in the inner circle but Matsukawa somehow passed. Matsukawa had no intention of explaining his involvement to Bokuto, yet anyway, despite being close friends.

 

 

Hanamaki stared at the screen of his cellphone. He had charged it a day after the lecture from Akaashi and was somehow bombarded by messages from him, Daichi and for some odd reason Iwaizumi. The latter’s inheld complaints about Oikawa rather than worry of his wellbeing of course but odd nevertheless. Iwaizumi wasn’t much of a sharer, especially when it came to Oikawa. Yes, it’s true, no matter how contradictory it might have sounded. The one who usually listened to his grumblings was Daichi but apparently he had been a tad bit too busy with his own drama regarding one surprisingly feisty ash-blonde. Hanamaki figured the angel wasn’t as angelic as the nickname implied.

Hanamaki had practically bolted from Matsukawa’s apartment the minute they had returned with the pathetic excuse of needing to study for some university shit that Matsukawa obviously hadn’t bought. Hanamaki couldn’t decipher the look on his face at that moment but Matsukawa’s words stuck on his head. ‘Come back whenever you feel like.’ Such a simple sentence. No ‘stay well’, ‘let’s exchange numbers’ or explanation or anything of the sort. Just a vague invitation. Hanamaki started to feel like an abandoned kitten for some reason.

When a new message titled ‘SON OF A BITCH’ flashed on his screen Hanamaki wanted to chuck the device out of his window. What had he done this time? Who even titles a message like that? Something negative swirled in his stomach, making him grimace. He clicked it open, noticing the sender being unknown.

“STAY AWAY FROM WHAT’S NOT YOURS. THERE’S NO WAY ANYONE WOULD WANT YOUR USED WHORE ASS.”

“What the hell…” Hanamaki mumbled as he felt something stab at his chest painfully. He stared at the words for a long time. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at them, for what they were worth they were the undeniable truth.

When something suddenly banged on his apartment’s door, Hanamaki jolted up. He hadn’t even noticed the stream of tears until the droplets hit his hand when he had been surprised. He had a doorbell so why would anyone bang the door? Carefully he made it towards the door, unsure if he wanted to open it. After wiping away the evidence of crying he eyed the cramped excuse of a vestibule for a weapon of sorts but figured a shoehorn wasn’t that reliable, nor his pink sneakers. He didn’t really own much besides the clothes his wardrobe was unable to bear.

Hanamaki had no peephole so all he could do was brace himself and open the door to see who was there and why. Sure, he could have kept it chained and peep through the crack but give it to Hanamaki to forget about such a possibility only to remember it after fully opening the door. Not that it was necessary at this time. Behind the wooden barrier with a handle and a lock stood a grumpy Iwaizumi, a jolly Oikawa, a smirking Kuroo, Kenma, who was actively ignoring everything but the game on his PSP, Daichi with two plastic bags worth of food and an immaculate Akaashi. It was an odd combination of people. For one, Akaashi tended to steer clear of Kuroo, even though he was friends with Kenma. Kenma on the other hand couldn’t handle Oikawa in close proximity. Daichi and Kuroo were an ex-thing that Hanamaki was baffled how it ever even happened, with Kenma being there from the beginning to the end but apparently not in a romantic sense? Jesus, they were more messed up than Hanamaki’s wardrobe and that said something. Anyway, those two were never in bad terms, awkward yes, but oddly enough they were close friends even now and how the hell did Kenma put up with that was a freaking mystery. For the love of god, Daichi even _babysitted_ Kenma for Kuroo when he had his mystery business to take care of. Why the hell the pudding head even needed babysitting in the first place was mind-boggling.

With the lack of reaction from Hanamaki the people on the other side of the threshold grew a bit worried. Much like Oikawa, Hanamaki wasn’t a man easily at a loss for words, though Hanamaki often triumphed over the mentioned drama princess. (Hanamaki had claimed the throne for the queen in this battle a while ago.) Daichi stepped forward first. “Hanamaki? Are you alright?”

“Yeah sure, of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I just wondered if my neighbors were disturbed by the god awful noise,” Hanamaki babbled, noticing just now how uncharacteristically quiet he had been. He wasn’t a chatterbox like Oikawa, but he wasn’t exactly a quiet person. He figured that was what worried the others. He hadn’t really contacted anyone after the episode with … after being lectured by Akaashi. It had been a few weeks, he’d gone to lectures when he gave a shit, skipped lunch because of the mass of people he didn’t feel like confronting in the cafeteria, never stepping into a metro again and opting for busses instead and well, he hadn’t gone to Daichi’s apartment again nor had he expressed his boredom to his other friends. He hadn’t really talked to any of them that much lately, nor had he hung out with them. He hadn’t gone to parties, the loud music and scantily dressed people and alcohol didn’t excite him anymore and he hadn’t gone to Matsukawa’s place. More or less he had ignored everything social in his life but it’s not like he had avoided anyone when they had accidentally met on campus. So, why was everyone here?

The people beyond the door glanced at each other enough to make Hanamaki cock his head at them before Oikawa was the one to open his mouth, not so surprisingly. “We came to have a movie night!” He waved his hands, Hanamaki only now noticing the backpacks and duffel bags everyone was sporting which indicated that they were planning to spend the night. Hanamaki wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with the idea, but it’s not like you could stop an excited Oikawa so he let the horde in.

“Since when has he cared what the neighbors think?” Iwaizumi grumbled to Daichi who nodded in agreement. “Don’t ask me. Last time we entered that topic Hanamaki was singing some death metal cover song on karaoke on his balcony and obviously not giving a flying shit about the neighbors’ reaction,” Kuroo joined the conversation, chuckling at the memory but making a more serious face at the end of his sentence. His permanent smirk was borderline missing from his face, in place was a worried frown. The other two wore matching expressions. “Did you see the red eyes? He’s been crying.” Kuroo continued and the rest nodded. “Something happened and he’s not telling any of us.” Daichi figured, feeling slightly angry over not being confided in even though it had been the norm until now. “We can’t force him. Let’s just make him have fun and forget about it,” Kuroo ended the conversation and ushered the other further inside.

Kenma had found his way to Hanamaki’s couch and plopped onto it, concentrating fully on vanquishing his enemies in the game. Akaashi had fetched cups and mugs for everyone from Hanamaki’s kitchen cabinets and Daichi started giving out the food. They had opted for take-away Chinese and Hanamaki felt a pang of gratefulness at that, he was a lousy cook and a lazy ass so his fridge and freezer literally screamed empty from the bowels of their non-existent souls. Oikawa was the one to choose the movie and after fiddling with Hanamaki’s TV and Blu-ray player he plopped onto Iwaizumi’s lap as if it was the most normal course of action one could take. Well, for him it most likely was, Hanamaki thought as he felt a sting of something dark in his chest for seeing the couple cuddling so close to each other and so at peace with themselves.

Kuroo sat by Kenma, Daichi by Kuroo and Akaashi had fished himself a stool from the kitchen. Hanamaki would’ve normally squeezed himself next to Daichi but wanting to preserve his personal space he opted for the floor this time. Careful not to touch anyone, Hanamaki settled onto the floor in front of Kenma’s side of the sofa and focused on his food. The movie he didn’t really care about.

Nibbling on his piece of chicken Hanamaki was lost in thought. He could perceive Oikawa’s screeches and complaints, nothing could completely mask that noise, but he paid no heed to them. He was confused. Why were so many people in his apartment? Why had he let them in? Why did they come? Was this normal? What was normal for Hanamaki? He didn’t seem to remember anymore. Glancing at the couch, Hanamaki noted that the concept of personal space didn’t seem to exist anymore, seeing as Kuroo had grabbed Kenma at one point and so the blonde was practically being embraced by the towering bed head. Daichi was leaning on Kuroo’s shoulder, Iwaizumi sitting on the floor between his legs. Oikawa was being cuddled, or forcefully held in place by Iwaizumi, you never knew which one it was with these two. Akaashi had abandoned his stool at some point and was half-way sitting on the sofa’s arm rest and half-way on Daichi’s lap, legs though still teetering on the mentioned stool. Hanamaki didn’t remember Akaashi being so cuddlesome. It was like everyone around the sofa had morphed into one entity and had absolutely no qualms about it. Hugging, laughing, stroking one’s hair, poking, swaying, playful hitting, anything and everything affectionate was ensuing in that dimension of theirs which Hanamaki quickly noted to be completely left out from. He was a clear outsider. Had he always been? Were these truly his friends? What were friends in the first place? Why were they here? Would Hanamaki want to be in that alien-entity? Pressed against other people, breathing the same air, feeling the same warmth? A shudder went through Hanamaki followed with a feeling like his skin was crawling. No, he didn’t want to be part of it. He didn’t want to touch them. He felt…disgusted. How could they just touch each other like that?

Hanamaki laid his eyes back on his noodles and noted that his appetite was long gone. If he forced the food in front of him down his throat, he’d surely throw up. Resigned, he abandoned his half-eaten meal and decided to glance at his phone. He didn’t own a proper clock, he thought it was a useless piece of stupid which just cost money he didn’t have. The digital clock in his cellphone was all he needed.

The mentioned device announced with bright white letters that it was 23:41 and Hanamaki wanted to groan. It was closing on midnight and the mountain on his couch made no effort on getting up and leaving. So they really were planning to stay the night. Hanamaki didn’t like the idea. He didn’t want people around him when he slept. Not that he had really slept much lately even when alone. He was plagued by stupid nightmares about _the day_. And somehow, in every single one of those nightmares in the end, he saw a face on his attacker that he in reality hadn’t seen. The face usually changed, it varied between the people he knew, often it was someone of his friends. And that truly terrified him. The dream often ended with him passing out either in the metro or on the platform. The more endurable dreams ended with Matsukawa arriving to the platform. The best, if you could use the adjective to even describe a nightmare, ended with Matsukawa saving him just before anything even happened and that made Hanamaki always wake up in tears. Oddly enough, never in any of those dreams did his attacker wear Matsukawa’s face.

At one point Akaashi had disappeared somewhere with his phone, Hanamaki figured that Bokuto was calling him. Daichi too was absorbed in his phone and well, when was Kenma not? Oikawa and Iwaizumi were messing around about something relatively incoherent that Hanamaki didn’t have the energy to figure out. Kuroo seemed to be the only idle one and unfortunately Hanamaki had caught his eye. That might be a wrong expression to use but nevertheless the tall and lean muscled man with eternal bed-head and a lopsided grin that Hanamaki found slightly unnerving at the moment was looking at him, following him with his gaze, seemingly analyzing him or scheming something evil. Hanamaki would guess the latter because that was more like Kuroo personality wise. The man could easily pass as a mobster, a host, a lawyer or a freaking secret agent. You could never really tell. Usually that secretive side of Kuroo didn’t bother Hanamaki, he was free to be whatever he wanted, but at this time it was starting to freak him out. It felt like the more he studied him with those cat-like eyes of his the sooner he’d figure out everything about Hanamaki. Even stuff he definitely didn’t want anyone to know, not even his friends.

“Kuro.” Kenma suddenly whispered, uttering the very first word since trodding inside Hanamaki’s apartment with his PSP in hand. Immediately Kuroo seemed to understand the underlying order and ceased his staring. Hanamaki wanted to sigh out of relief but that would be beyond obvious.

Hanamaki’s thought process had found a new path to follow and it latched onto Kenma’s nickname for his childhood-friend-now-lover. Kenma was the only one allowed to call Kuroo ‘Kuro’. Others mostly used his last name or some ridiculous nickname like ‘rooster head’, ‘bed-head’ or ‘scheming bastard’ etc. There were surprisingly many to describe the man. Kuroo’s closest friends and Oikawa (nobody could stop the diva from giving anyone a nickname) called him Tetsurou or Tetsu. How was it that you were so close to someone that it felt natural? Kuroo and Kenma’s mutual nonverbal understanding of each other was baffling to Hanamaki. Freaky too, but mostly just wondrous. How could you know person so well and trust them so deeply like they did?

Hanamaki was so lost in thought that he got a literal jump-scare when Akaashi tapped him onto his shoulder. Almost swatting at Akaashi’s already withdrawn hand Hanamaki bounced up from to floor with eyes round like plates in shock. And he wasn’t the only one shocked. Everyone had witnessed the reaction and were now mostly at a loss for words, though Akaashi seemed to repeat what he had tried to tell Hanamaki when he hadn’t been listening. “Bokuto says Matsukawa-san is worried. Apparently you haven’t kept in touch?”

Not knowing how to react, Hanamaki stared at Akaashi. Slowly he shook his head. He hadn’t even thought of going to see the man again. No, that was a lie. He thought of the man multiple times a day. He saw him almost repeatedly in his dreams but everything about him reminded Hanamaki of what he really wished to just forget. Hm, not exactly everything. There was the movie theater thing which made Hanamaki feel a tad bit better. It had even felt like a date, even though they had in fact been shadowing Akaashi and Bokuto’s date.

“No…” Hanamaki didn’t have a better answer to offer to Akaashi. He didn’t have the man’s phone number so calling him was impossible and spontaneously going to his apartment seemed even more unrealistic.

Akaashi nodded but still looked worried. “He says something about a talk…?” Hanamaki immediately shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He answered, deciding to completely forget everything. Maybe that way the nightmares would stop and he could look at his friends normally again?

“He says that it’s important. Something about being Dr. Phil to your Oprah?” Akaashi looked utterly confused at this point and Hanamaki figured it wasn’t Bokuto on the other end of the call anymore. Only Matsukawa knew that conversation.

“Hanamaki, what is this? Is everything-“ Hanamaki stopped Akaashi before he could finish his question, dreading having to answer it if he did. “Apparently my genius is needed even regarding psychology studies. It’s about school work.” Hanamaki lied and he could feel Kuroo giving him the _‘you can’t bullshit me’_ look even though the others seemed to accept the reason. It wasn’t weird that Hanamaki was asked to tutor people after all, although it was rare that he agreed. Hanamaki was lazy and everyone knew it. But this time, he just didn’t know what else to do but tell a pathetic lie.


	8. I'm not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 hits! I can't thank you enough! I love you guys <3
> 
> I have to apologize for it has been a while and even my reason is a cliché which I can't really help: University stuff has been killing me brutally, analyzes, reports, assignments, essays, presentations, tests, interviews, group projects... for the love of god where do professors rip these things? My only "free" time to write this has been when I have been on the train and thus stuff may seem a bit detached or clipped, but I still hope you guys like the new chapter, please comment if there's smth you wanna say; comments always get me extra-fired up about this :3

Grabbing at his fluffy duvet Hanamaki pulled it even more over his head, refusing to even think about getting out of bed. He loathed mornings. It was chilly, every muscle of his was aching and he had a headache. And he wasn’t even hungover. Hanamaki never was a morning person and never would be. If it was up to him, he’d live cocooned by his duvet in his bed for the rest of his life. And apparently it wouldn’t be a long life, based on his not-so-healthy living habits. He heard once that Kuroo and Daichi and the others had made bets on how he’d die. Daichi had said that Hanamaki would get run over by a truck. According to him Hanamaki was careless beyond help. Akaashi said from malnutrition and dehydration because apparently he’d forget to eat. Yaku was convinced that someone’s girlfriend or boyfriend or some one-night-stand would stab him. When Oikawa mentioned aliens Iwaizumi slugged him for being an idiot. Then he guessed Hanamaki would probably blow himself up while testing one of his inventions. That one was weird, Hanamaki didn’t even invent stuff, why would he die in an explosion? Kenma never acknowledged the whole conversation and they were interrupted before Kuroo could share his own opinion. Or most likely, Kuroo never intended to voice them in the first place. He was shrewd like that. He could instigate others to do or say what he wanted but he himself always had an escape plan ready.

“Makki? Do you want some coffee?” Oikawa asked from the doorway holding Hanamaki’s favorite mug in his hand, sipping at the hot contents. “Bastard,” Hanamaki mumbled to his pillow, relatively pissed that his mug was stolen. “Makki, I’m offended,” Oikawa gasped about to complain even more but was interrupted by his oh-so-loving boyfriend. “Zip it Trashykawa.” Iwaizumi kicked the curly haired male from the doorway as he brought a mug of latte to Hanamaki’s night table. “ ‘Morning,” he greeted, making Hanamaki slightly uncomfortable. He couldn’t look straight at his friend so he chose to stare at the mug on his night stand.

“…Shouldn’t you be attentive like this only to your boyfriend?” Hanamaki muttered just as Iwaizumi was about to exit the room, though surprisingly he still heard him. Iwaizumi gave a laugh as an answer. “That idiot can deal with a little less attention every now and then.”

Groggily Hanamaki dragged himself out of bed and towards his dresser. No, toilet first. Have to brush teeth. Wash the face. He changed his heading and orienteered towards the bathroom, only stumbling twice on the way, once over some dirty laundry one the floor and once over the threshold. He did his business and after that managed to even find a clean pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie with the logo from his high school. He went back to his mug of caffeine that had cooled down to a more preferable temperature so as not to burn his sensitive tongue. With it in hand he trudged into his living room that housed now a few sleeping bodies and a few way too active ones preparing breakfast.

Daichi was shuffling in his kitchenette, flipping pancakes like a pro and frying some bacon and whatnot on the side. Hanamaki made a mental note to inform his friend that he wasn’t a big fan of English breakfast, well except the pancakes. Pancakes were always more than welcome. He’d eat those whenever, breakfast, lunch, dinner, evening snack, literally anytime.

“Good morning Hanamaki,” Daichi greeted him, not taking his eyes of the frying pans he was multitasking. Hanamaki returned the greeting with a nod, too sleepy to mutter something as useless as a greeting. A nod was more than adequate to imply that he returned the sentiment. It was Daichi’s fault if he didn’t see it, not Hanamaki’s.

Hanamaki plopped down on an available stool and grabbed the remote lying on the table. He turned the TV on and scrolled through enough channels to know that the news was the only thing even remotely interesting during such morning hours. While sipping at his coffee and taking a glance or few at his friends who were doing their own thing here and there in his apartment, he felt sort of at peace. It had been a long time since he had felt so calm. Sure his apartment was full of people but none of them was a making a ruckus at the moment, rather everyone was just doing whatever in a very peaceful manner. Super rare for them but oddly comforting. Maybe this discovery had something to do with the fact that whenever they usually were waking up together, at least half of them were either hungover or extremely late from something or cranky or being general pains in the ass by playing tricks on others. Hanamaki often being the one leading the pranking.

“Makki, your phone’s been ringing for a while now,” Oikawa informed as he wolfed down his plate. Daichi and Iwaizumi had reclaimed the couch and were animatedly talking about baseball or boxing, Hanamaki wasn’t sure. Kuroo had disappeared at some point during the night apparently, though Kenma was happily sleeping in a bundle in one of the corners of the living room. Akaashi was like the sleeping beauty from fairytales and the situation had gotten an upgrade probably thanks to Oikawa. Akaashi had been tucked in all princess-style with a fluffy duvet right in the middle of the living room floor, he was sort of rounded up with pillows and other soft objects and then decorated with paper flowers, like origami roses and such. Normally the scene would be considered as comical but with Akaashi it looked just beyond fitting.

“…eh what?” Hanamaki snapped out of his thoughts. “I said, your phone’s been giving us a live concert for a while now.” Oikawa mumbled through the bacon he was chewing on. “You should’ve said it before,” Hanamaki complained and Oikawa gave him a comical expression of disbelief he was unable to express vocally all thanks to the pieces of bacon he had stuffed his cheeks with. Hanamaki ignored this and went to fetch his phone that really had been ringing for a while. He saw 3 missed calls, all from the same number that was just flashing in the screen again.

“Hello?”

“Takahiro. I’ve been trying to reach you. Why weren’t you answering?”

Hanamaki recognized the voice immediately. There were only so many people who called him by his first name. “…it’s been a while.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Takahiro.”

“I didn’t notice it.” Hanamaki wasn’t sure why he was still contacting him. He’d always had some trouble with him but it had only intensified lately.

“Sure you didn’t. You always were a little slower on the uptake.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” Hanamaki spit out sarcastically. How could it that whenever they had a conversation it was unpleasant? More like royally pissing him off. “What do you want?”

He heard chuckling on the other end, infuriating him even further. “You should come by for a little dinner tonight. How does sushi sound?”

“I don’t remember a time we have ever eaten a proper dinner together. What’s your point?” Hanamaki interrogated, he knew the man had to be scheming something, he always was. So what on earth was so important he wanted him there?

“I don’t recall that being my fault.” The man answered after a short pause, this time there wasn’t even a shred of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, but I do. You were literally never there. A little difficult to blame others for that, don’t you think?” Hanamaki hung up after that without listening to the answer. He didn’t want to hear any of the excuses. It was always the same quarrel. He knew the arguments and what the conclusion would be and he had no desire to especially listen to it again.

Hanamaki lowered his phone, wanting to smash it but just as he was about to fling it at the walls, Daichi entered the room. “What was it?” He asked concern in his tone. Daichi always was quick to notice when Hanamaki was feeling pissy. It was annoying as hell but also somehow comforting. Knowing that someone was actually watching him close enough to notice something like that, made him secretly a little happy.

“He called.” Was all Hanamaki said but it was all Daichi needed to understand. “What did he want?” Daichi inquired but the look Hanamaki gave him made Daichi voluntarily lift his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I won’t ask again, so stop murdering me with your eyes.”

After that Hanamaki holed up into his bedroom, not getting up even once, not even when his friends left. Daichi had peeked into the room twice but received nothing but silence to his inquiries. Oikawa had loudly declared his irritation and Iwaizumi hadn’t even shut him up this time. The whole gang had left, eventually leaving behind only Akaashi who had made a cup of tea for Hanamaki before announcing his departure also.

Hanamaki rolled around in his bed feeling like a middle-school aged hikikomori, all holed up in his room and doing jack squat. It wasn’t his personality to just mope around he knew that, it only depressed him further but what the hell could he do when he was depressed and pissed? If he got up and started wandering around nothing good would come out of it. He’d just blow up into someone’s face or get drunk off his ass and end up in the gutter somewhere. As if that hadn’t happened before. It hadn’t bothered him before so why now? Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why it bothered him now. He was scared. Scared of what would happen if he ventured outside and got drunk and lost over half of his reasoning. Would the same thing happen that happened in the subway? Granted he was sober back then but if that could happen when he was sober why couldn’t it happen when he was drunk? What if something like that had happened when he had been drunk but he just hadn’t realized it? Hanamaki felt all too terrified at the thought. It hadn’t bothered him before, not remembering where he had been fooling around and with who, but now he was starting to get scared. Just what had he been doing?

Hanamaki jumped out of his bed and rushed towards the door. If he stayed indoors all alone he’d go crazy with his thoughts. Just as he was about to grab the knob of the front door he stalled. But where would he go? His friends had left a while ago and he didn’t really feel like meeting them again and bothering them with this kind of problem. “Oh, fuck it,” Hanamaki cursed and left his apartment. He had one heading in mind.

 

 

Hanamaki was already second-guessing his idea. He was pacing in front of the mundane apartment building that had seen better days. The sidewalk was overpowered by weeds between the cracks, and ironically enough the street light closest to the complex was busted, creating an eerie atmosphere. No people ventured even remotely nearby and the only sounds he could here were distant car noises and meows of a stray cat he couldn’t pinpoint exactly.

“What the hell am I doing?” Hanamaki asked himself while staring upwards towards the door on the second level. He’d seen the thing only a couple times but now it looked somehow nostalgic. Oh fuck no, nostalgic? Really? You gotta be shitting ponies and wanking turtles you idiot, Hanamaki cursed himself for thinking idiotic things. There’s no way that ugly dark blue and half-busted door evoked any sorts of emotions in him, just no freaking way. At least not positive. The place looked absolutely horrifying! Why in the god’s name did someone even choose to live there voluntarily and even freaking _pay_ for it?!

Matsukawa grabbed the pot of coffee he just made and poured it into his favorite mug. He leaned against the small breakfast bar – the only thing even remotely reminding of a table in the apartment and that wasn’t completely cluttered – and took a sip of the warm liquid. He wanted to moan at the deliciousness hitting his taste buds but almost choked when he heard quite colorful cussing behind his front door. Granted, he didn’t have a working doorbell so that was as good a door bell as any, but he figured the neighbors wouldn’t agree. Who is he trying to kid? His neighbors don’t give a shit. The ones on the left fuck more often than bunnies in heat and the ones in the right he’d never seen nor heard. He just figured it’s vacant.

He dragged himself to his door when the cussing didn’t stop and removed the chain before pushing open the door. He heard a thud and then a wince but only when he glanced down did he see where the sounds originated from; a pink fluffiness was found on their knees behind his door, not saying anything. “Hanamaki?” Matsukawa questioned but didn’t get a verbal answer. The boy lifted his eyes, making his pink hair bounce as his animated eyes looked straight at him and Matsukawa could have sworn he heard him mewl. “Meow?” Matsukawa imitated the noise but added a questioning intonation at the end to emphasize his slight confusion.

Hanamaki lifted a dark furry ball into Matsukawa’s face and in a second the origin of the mewl was found as the ball of fluff let out another ‘meow’. Matsukawa couldn’t help but stare at the feline with a coffee mug in hand. He really hadn’t expected to find Hanamaki with a cat behind his front door. “Are you gonna let me in?” Hanamaki innocently inquired, slightly tilting his head cutely while still petting the furry being.

“…Sure,” Matsukawa opened the door a bit more to let his visitor in, which he did – with the cat.

 

 

Hanamaki stirred and felt some aching in his neck. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and tried to eye his surroundings. He didn’t need to look around much, a few glances told everything he needed to know. He was sprawled on a small coach; legs dangling over it as was his other arm. His right hand rested on his abdomen, right next to a pretty smoke grey furball that was purring pleased every now and then. Hanamaki trailed slightly past it and caught a dark tousled bedhead leaning on to the couch.

Matsukawa was silently petting the cat, looking all serene and satisfied. He looked so casual and so attractive like that, it felt like time had stopped for Hanamaki. He didn’t want to move in fear of rupturing the perfectly calm moment of peace. Instead, he continued on staring, taking in every detail he could about the boy in in his line of sight.

When Hanamaki got to describing Matsukawa’s jaw line in greater detail the person turned all of a sudden to look straight at him. If Hanamaki had been standing he’d have jumped in startle, but seeing as he was lying down on his back with very limited movements, he didn’t react at all. He continued on staring into those dark chocolatey eyes and the moment dragged on in silence.

The silence was quickly broken by one unsatisfied furball demanding more attention and seeing as she did not receive it, lifted his tail and nose held high jumped off Hanamaki’s stomach and trailed somewhere else in the apartment. The freezing spell between the two had been broken and Matsukawa was the first one to address it.

“So, I hope you slept well?” Matsukawa inquired, without the cat being his petting partner he had moved to Hanamaki’s stomach and ever so casually kept on doing the same petting motion. Hanamaki glanced at the hand softly sliding down his stomach and with confusion swirling in his thoughts, blushed. It felt nice. Odd as fuck but nice. Comfortable.

“I guess,” Hanamaki mumbled, not knowing how to answer. Usually he was quite clever in his words but with Matsukawa he seemed to regress to the level of an ordinary Joe – not amusing at all.

“Why are you here?” Matsukawa stilled in his petting, staring right into Hanamaki’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Out of all the emotions Hanamaki could have expressed: anger, irritation, amusement, boredom etc., Hanamaki felt like he wanted to cry. He had been asking that question for so long that he couldn’t even remember anymore. Even way before the subway incident. Sure numerous people had asked that of him at various times but every single time he was feeling something above mentioned and brushed aside the inquiries. He had never truly answered the question. Not even to himself. So, was he okay?

Hanamaki sat upright, Matsukawa dropped his hand to the sofa as Hanamaki hugged his left leg while the other he crossed in front of himself. Matsukawa said nothing, still waited for an answer that he could just see was still brewing in Hanamaki’s mind, the boy’s eyes weren’t concentrating on anything he saw after all.

Finally, Hanamaki let out a sigh as if he’d had a long debate with himself and finally reached a conclusion all parts of him were satisfied with. He buried his face into his hands and ducked down, his forehead hitting his left knee. He took a moment, lifted his face again and removed his hands. He looked straight at Matsukawa and very slightly tilted his head towards left – the side Matsukawa was sitting on the floor – and in the first time in his whole life, admitted: “I’m not.”


	9. Lots of boyfriends on the scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry Suga, is a very scary Suga.

“It’s just a frying pan, and frozen veggies. Some shrimps. There’s literally nothing to mess up.”

“Um… Then why does my kitchen look like the Pompeii after Vesuvius exploded?” Matsukawa crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head a tad bit questioning. He was literally facing the mystery of the 21st century. How does a 21-year old guy wreak mayhem with nothing but frozen food and one frying pan? The answer: he touched the bag of flour and eggs. Seriously. Nothing will go wrong, as long as you don’t touch the freaking flour. And eggs. Those two are literally the ingredients for chaos.

“You study history?”

“No, pumpkin. Everyone knows Vesuvius and Pompeii.”

“Oh…”

“Are you gonna clean this up?” Matsukawa inquired, he didn’t know whether to cringe or chuckle. He glanced at Hanamaki who was covered in flour and…was that olive oil he smelled? And something smelt burnt…

“Did you turn off the stove?!” Matsukawa cried out in shock when he realized where the smell was coming from. He stared at Hanamaki with wide eyes, urgency in his tone as he wanted to be wrong but was 99% sure he wasn’t.

“I- It- I thought… No?” Hanamaki stammered very confused about what he had done and what he hadn’t. He was still confused about all the flour he was covered in let alone about the stove. There had been buttons instead of knobs and he wasn’t sure what he should have pushed and what not. As stated before, he got very confused.

“Oh for the love of…” Matsukawa muttered as he lunged towards the stove where he could already perceive some swirls of smoke erupting from. “Damn, it is becoming more and more like the freaking Vesuvius,” He mumbled as he fiddled for a second with the buttons and turned off the potential start of a fire.

With one less problem to worry about Matsukawa turned towards Hanamaki who hadn’t moved from his place by the breakfast bar. He was fiddling with his fingers, clearly feeling bad for what he had caused but feeling very awkward about it. Matsukawa found the gesture rather cute but he wouldn’t admit that. He expected that calling Hanamaki’s nervous gesture to be cute might not sit well with the boy.

“Okay, wizard of failed cooking, you can redeem yourself if you promise to clean up this … disaster zone,” Matsukawa smirked, already resigned himself to giving a helping hand. He had an inkling that Hanamaki wasn’t any better at cleaning than he was at cooking.

“It’s not that bad…” Hanamaki grumbled but with a raise of an eyebrow from Matsukawa he reconsidered his words. “Okay, maybe it is…” He found a dishrag from the cupboard below the sink and as he prepared to wipe the counters when Matsukawa appeared next to him with a mop. Together they started cleaning, Matsukawa wanting to laugh half the time at Hanamaki’s mishaps. He wasn’t incorrect with his earlier presumption, Hanamaki was ridiculously bad at cleaning.

 

 

Hanamaki stared at the ceiling of Matsukawa’s living room. He found the discolored thing to be rather dismal and bleak. And based on the age of the whole damn building, he wouldn’t be surprised if the thing would sport a leak or just simply start crumbling down at any given moment. It was still nothing sort of a miracle why in the earth would the man willingly pay to live there. There had to be at least a dozen of safety hazards. It should be illegal.

He diverted his gaze to the radio. Yes, Matsukawa had a radio and he actually actively listened to it. That just baffled Hanamaki. Who the hell listened to radio nowadays when you could just watch TV or straight on Netflix or the like? Not that he’d ever watched Netflix either. He didn’t have the money to pay for it.

The radio was playing _Imagine Dragons – Thunder_ and Hanamaki started humming to it. He’d heard the song often enough but never really paid attention to the lyrics. He didn’t like relating to songs, as other people said they often did. He found that the melodies were what drew him to the songs and the lyrics just ruined them. People just had to blabber over everything beautiful, Hanamaki thought bitterly.

When the music ended and some radio person started chattering about some celebrity, Hanamaki wanted to bash the thing. The voice was way too energetic and annoying and was practically grating on his ears. He preferred something lower and smoother, something like-

“Hanamaki, have you seen my phone?”

Yes, something like that, it was just the perfect sound, smooth like velvet but low and somehow a little lazy. It had a calming effect on Hanamaki, most of the time. And the other times it excited him. Especially when it called his name. His voice made him unpredictable because it didn’t really change no matter the emotions he portrayed. He seemed very accustomed to mask everything. He could be a great actor, Hanamaki mused. He could easily make the girls swoon and guys pop a boner just because he called them by their name, just like he was at the exact moment-

“What?!” Hanamaki jumped up from the sofa and whirled around. He faced the man he’d just thought about with eyes like plates. “I didn’t mean that.” He did the best efforts he could to hide his way too happy member with his loose shirt. He really hoped it went unnoticed.

“Um what?” Matsukawa was confused. He’d just zipped his hoodie and all he needed was his cellphone before he could venture out to earn his living to pay all the bills, but Hanamaki’s outburst froze him to his spot, making him eye the boy in amusement.

“Your voice is not sexy,” Hanamaki argued, panicking to get himself out of the hole he had dug for himself, without realizing he was only digging deeper. Very effectively. With an excavator.

“You don’t think my voice is sexy?” Matsukawa smirked, very much enjoying the silly ramblings.

“Yes!” Hanamaki paled. “No! Definitely no!” Matsukawa just laughed. “Leave! Go away. Oh my gods forget! Instant amnesia right now please I beg somebody!” Hanamaki buried his face into his hands and with all his might prayed for any sort of force to just make him disappear or Matsukawa forget or for the time to turn back. Anything that could save him from the utter embarrassment.

Matsukawa cringed at the mention of amnesia, but ignored the sting. He was over it already. He didn’t need to dwell on the past. Especially, when he had something as adorable as a confused Hanamaki on his couch rambling about his sexiness. “Okay, my crazy unicorn-lover,” Matsukawa closed their distance and ruffled Hanamaki’s hair. He was perfectly at his waist level and Matsukawa reveled at the feeling of those soft, poofy locks under his fingers and for just an extended moment let himself fantasize about them never leaving his hold. As if he’d be allowed that. Sighing, Matsukawa stilled in his ruffling. “I need to go to work. Are you gonna be okay?” He quietly asked.

After Hanamaki’s initial admittance and the following breakdown, that question had somehow became their ‘thing’. Matsukawa would ask it every now and then, when there was a situation that might be unpleasant for example. Hanamaki would answer it when he felt like answering, sometimes saying nothing, sometimes replying with gestures that Matsukawa had to decipher to the best of his abilities and sometimes, with a very quiet and fragile whisper. Those Matsukawa appreciated the most. Those whispers were what was left when Hanamaki tried his best to bare everything. It was him at his most vulnerable. It was when a single word, a gesture even, could utterly shatter Hanamaki to pieces and every time he was silently waiting for it. Matsukawa was still waiting for such a moment, when Hanamaki doesn’t bare himself because he doesn’t care anymore whether he shatters or not, but when he really trust Matsukawa not to break him.

This time he didn’t get one of those rare whispers that seemed to hold so much more than only a word could. This time Hanamaki nodded, leaning to Matsukawa’s warm palm and hummed quietly. Matsukawa often likened the male to a cat that was fickle but affectionate. He gave a warm smile, a beautiful cat indeed.

“Okay, I’m going now,” Matsukawa breathed out and took a step backwards. As he was turning to the doorway a hand shot out and grabbed his hoodie helm. “I’m coming too.”

 

 

Hanamaki stood in the entrance, slightly lost. Matsukawa had disappeared to the back room to change and hadn’t even spared a glance at the customers in the shop. He’d quickly greeted his co-workers and then ‘poof’ and he was gone.

For Hanamaki, it had been purely on reflex that he’d insisted on following Matsukawa to work. He had also conveniently forgotten, that it was Akaashi’s favorite coffee shop. And that Daichi’s sugar boy worked there. Needless to say, the boyfriends were there too.

Akaashi was sitting in his usual booth, a book in hand and a cappuccino in front of him on the table. Daichi was leaning on the bar, grumbling about something Hanamaki couldn’t make out, with the ashen boy with a refreshing smile. The loud one was there too. Fiddling away on the coffee maker thingy, seemingly actually working.

The first to notice Hanamaki was Sugawara, who greeted him like a normal customer, with the smile and all. Hanamaki felt awkward, being treated like that by one of his best friend’s boyfriends. Oh, but the man didn’t know him, they had never actually met. Only Hanamaki one-sidedly knew him, out of stalking and teasing Daichi endlessly about him. He decided to correct this wrongdoing and with a cocky smirk he paraded right next to Daichi.

“Hello, my dear Daichi,” Hanamaki chirped and stole Daichi’s mug of coffee from him with a lingering touch to his hand. He took a tentative sip of the coffee and inwardly cursed Daichi’s preference of taking it black, but didn’t let it show on his face. Instead he licked the mug’s rim as seductively as he could and blinked a few pretty times before winking at him. From the corner of his eye he saw that he had Sugawara’s full attention and he reveled in it. Hanamaki closed in on Daichi’s ear, posed ready to whisper in it but just as he was about to unleash his clever tongue, a sound of glass shattering interrupted him.

With a smug grin plastered on his face Hanamaki turned around to see what he was already expecting. He looked straight at Sugawara. But that wasn’t it. He wasn’t expecting what he actually saw. Sugawara was holding a coffee cup – one that was not broken. Then who the hell broke something and what was it?

Hanamaki glanced around and it took him only a fraction of a second to find the culprit. The loud one with weird hairdo had dropped a drinking glass that was now shattered into hundreds of pieces on the floor but he was still staring directly at Hanamaki and Daichi. And for the record, Daichi hadn’t moved a muscle during the whole ordeal. Somebody had to give him a cupcake for that. Hanamaki really wanted to snicker. If Daichi had actually done anything the situation may not have escalated like that, so half of the murderous glare on Suga’s face was because of him. This should be priceless, Hanamaki thought as he waited for the next move from the two.

For Hanamaki’s disappointment, the one who reacted next, wasn’t neither he had wanted it to be. It was Matsukawa, who had emerged from the break room during all the fun. “What did I miss?” He innocently asked while instantly checking out Hanamaki, who for his displeasure was still draped over Daichi, and then Sugawara and the rest who seemed to be involved.

“Something very stupid, although highly entertaining.” Akaashi opened his mouth for the first time and immediately had everyone’s attention. But before he could continue, though Hanamaki suspected that Akaashi never intended on continuing that train of thought of his in the first place, something grey flashed in Hanamaki’s peripheral. He glanced towards it and found Sugawara smiling at him. _Smiling_. And Hanamaki has seen his fair share of creepy smiles and dangerous smiles and threatening smiles but nothing could compare with that. That smile of his was shouting murder with capital letters, accompanied with an implication for gruesome torture as an entrée. It made Hanamaki visibly shiver.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Sugawara Koushi, but you can just call me Suga. Now, would you be kind enough to remove your hands off my boyfriend before I chop them off with a bread knife and make you eat them?”

Hanamaki stared at the man on the other side of the counter and was more than grateful for the piece of furniture to exist between them. Throughout the whole not so subtle threat Suga hadn’t dropped his smile even once but it was quite clear that his eyes weren’t laughing. They were scrutinizing him with very obvious contempt and Hanamaki got freaked. His plan hadn’t gone as he figured and instead of being able to witness an amusing scene of jealousy between the lovers, he was about to be brutally murdered for his actions.

“Suga, you shouldn’t murder your best friend’s boyfriend…” Bokuto quietly mumbled, still unsure whether he should clean up the mess of glass shards on the floor or not. All the heads snapped to back to Hanamaki who was a sputtering mess and unable to form coherent sentences for a protest. All he could audibly say was a vocal ‘no’.

Akaashi stealthily moved to Bokuto’s side to help him with the shards. “What are you talking about?” He asked Bokuto who was now holding a dust pan he found from one of the cupboards. “An angry Suga is a very scary Suga and I have no idea why Matsukawa’s boyfriend is flirting with Suga’s boyfriend. And my own b-boyfriend was watching this whole ordeal expressing nothing but amusement.” He explained quietly, still embarrassed at calling Akaashi his boyfriend, he wasn’t sure whether they were, he thought they were, and if they were whether Akaashi was okay with him saying it publicly or not, thus the slight stutter at the word. “I see you’re confused but-“ before Akaashi could continue Bokuto interrupted him. “Yeah, I’m confused. Lots of boyfriends on the scene,” he mumbled with a scrunched up face in thought. “And about those boyfriends you pointed out… Whose boyfriend is Hanamaki?” Akaashi asked, genuinely intrigued and confused. Because as far as he knew, Hanamaki wasn’t dating anyone. He hasn’t been serious about anyone for years. And lately he hadn’t even heard anything about any one-night stands either.

“Mattsun’s,” Bokuto said matter-of-factly. That was the only thing he was relatively sure about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went into a whole new direction that I really hadn't planned before-hand. Seriously, I hadn't imagined any of this happening but somehow it just did? The Easter holidays have given me some time to write and well I, like Hanamaki here, get easily distracted, so most of the plot that I have been carefully planning has become scrapped the moment I started actually writing again because I just went with the flow... 
> 
> Nevertheless, please leave kudos if you liked it and comment below if there's anything you wanna express :3 Good or bad, I'll take it all and reflect and then continue writing ^^


	10. "I'll make you mine, kitten."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re like family.” 
> 
> Daichi worked to clarify, but his tone wasn’t that convincing, at least to Matsukawa, who read through the lines well enough to figure out that Daichi wasn’t even sure himself, whether the three were like a family or something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely need to apologize to all my readers. I had a writer's block all summer, mostly because I'm extremely terrible at writing fighting scenes and it caused me all sorts of anxiety. I'm still continuing this story, I'm not leaving this unfinished. I just have some issues about certain scenarios I'm writing about and it makes me unable to be satisfied with my creation and so it prolongs my updates. I try to keep updating at least once a month, but I just can't make proper promises. My faulty personality isn't too good with schedules... 
> 
> I hope you guys still enjoy reading my story >.< You guys mean lot to me and I wish to deliver enjoyable material from now on too ~

“Okay people, hold your horses.” Matsukawa took charge of the situation, all the while glancing at his supposedly best friend who was quite close to going all psycho-mode on the guy he had the hots for. Damn, did he just admit that? Mentally anyways. Shit. He really shouldn’t.

“Suga, don’t murder him for joking around. Suga’s boyfriend, don’t just sit there like the frigging statue of The Thinker. Bokuto, I’m dating no one at the moment, Hanamaki’s just a friend. And Hanamaki, I’m glad you’re alright enough to… do _that_.” With that Matsukawa grabbed his notepad from the pocket of his apron and marched towards the waiting customers, who had seemingly started to wonder why no one was picking their orders, feeling more irritated than he had thought he felt.  

Matsukawa mentally scolded himself for acting out on his own frustration. He had been very careful not to approach a topic that could be considered sexual in any way because he had thought Hanamaki to still be vulnerable over his attack. And seeing that scene had been infuriating. Apparently Hanamaki was just fine with flirting – as long as it wasn’t done with him.

While Matsukawa was scribbling down an order of herbal tea and cheesecake for two girls siting by a window, Hanamaki stood by the seat he had occupied earlier, not knowing what to do. He felt absolutely awful. Not for playing a prank on Daichi and his boyfriend, god knows he loves pranking and joking around. No, he felt bad because of Matsukawa’s words. Because he had heard the contempt at his voice. And it was directed at him. And he knew why. Because he was cheap and dirty and used. He shouldn’t have touched Daichi or even looked at Matsukawa’s best friend. Who would like it if someone so defiled would look at your best friend and then touch the boyfriend of that best friend? No one. Everyone would want to protect their important friends.

After a few seconds of fidgeting in place, fighting his emotions, Hanamaki fisted his fingers over the hem of his hoodie. He couldn’t deal with it. He shouldn’t be there. He didn’t want to be there, in front of people. He glanced towards the exit and saw it free of people. Without further thinking, he straight-lined towards it. Quickly he changed his stride to running with the determination of just getting away. He didn’t care where, as long as it was somewhere without people.

Just at the door when he was about to get out of the suffocating feeling – he’d never begged himself to feel claustrophobic in a café – with his eyes glued to the floor he bumped into a strong muscular shoulder. Shocked from the impact he whipped his head towards the cause of the collision. He met with a very surprised pair of dark brown eyes shockingly close to his own.

Before Iwaizumi could say anything, Hanamaki was out of the building, practically fleeing for his life. Iwaizumi turned towards his boyfriend who was right by him with confusion evident in his eyes also. “What the hell? What’s up with Takahiro?” Iwaizumi boomed immediately after. Oikawa visibly flinched by his side but only because he was surprised. Iwaizumi’s everyday anger/irritation and his real anger were very different things after all. And real anger was quite rare for the stoic man.

The full attention of the occupants of the café – customers, staff and friends – were now on a raging Iwaizumi. “Who was it?! Who the fuck thinks they can mess with Takahiro?!” Iwaizumi closed in on the counter because he noticed familiar faces gathered around it. Akaashi had been the one inviting them to have coffee and so he was there, standing next to an idiotic looking male in an apron and white hornet of a hairdo. Daichi looked visibly shell-shocked sitting by the counter and opposite to him stood an ashen haired male – Iwaizumi deduced him to be the new boyfriend everyone had been gushing over. He couldn’t give a shit who was whose hubby at the moment, someone had hurt Hanamaki and all he saw was red.

“Iwa-“ Was all Daichi could manage before the man in question reached him. “Daichi, what the hell?” Iwaizumi practically growled and as surprising as it could be, Oikawa was dead silent. The taller man just stood there next to his fuming boyfriend and seemed to judge the whole situation silently.

While Daichi was trying to explain something he didn’t have an answer for, Matsukawa had caught up to the ruckus. He apologized to the customers quickly and started towards the scene. At first he had gotten concerned if a fight had broken out but then he heard Hanamaki’s name and that had alerted him to get worried. That was a sign of intimacy and as far as he knew, Hanamaki wasn’t a sharer by nature. The man was the freaking world champion of bottled feelings. So, who was this man shouting his name in worried fury? A boyfriend? Did he have a boyfriend? Why didn’t he know? Who else could it be?

Before Matsukawa could figure out anything more Suga opened his mouth. And as good as the man was at calming people and kicking sense into them, at the moment his actions were definitely not helping. Matsukawa wanted to stuff a scrub brush into Suga’s mouth and make him choke on it out of frustration when the ashen male spoke about Hanamaki’s antics earlier with an annoyed tone. Granted, Hanamaki was a stranger to Suga and their first meeting was anything but ideal, but he could have chosen a better tone of voice in Matsukawa’s opinion. It is one of his friend’s good qualities to have self-confidence and resilience but one should really choose his attitude better when faced with a man of 70kg of muscle and fury.

Just as things were about to get over-heated Bokuto stepped into the conversation, and unlike his usual personality he did it in a subservient manner. “I don’t think that was it… It might’ve been me. I blurted the thing about him being boyfriends with Mattsun and then he denied it…” He informed regretting. And boy, did Iwaizumi jump on that. Even Oikawa seemed to react to this new information. “Takahiro doesn’t have a boyfriend!” Iwaizumi barked, fully concentrating his attack on Bokuto now. “Who are you to claim such a thing?!”

“Hajime, you need to calm down. Bokuto didn’t do anything to Hanamaki. You’re attacking him for nothing.” Akaashi intervened finally after following from the sidelines for so long.

“Of course you’d defend the guy who’s fucking your ass!”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shouted, ceasing all the other high volume conversing. His expression was shock and surprise, seemingly still trying to comprehend the insulting attitude of his boyfriend. Iwaizumi didn’t budge nor cower. He stared directly into Oikawa’s eyes and they seemed to have a silent conversation only privy to them. In a moment they broke the eye-contact and Iwaizumi took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Akaashi, I apologize for that comment, I didn’t mean it.” Iwaizumi apologized sincerely and received a nod of acceptance from his friend. “But Takahiro was crying, and I want to know who’s responsible so that I can rip their innards out,” this time it was nothing less of an authentic growl and even though this time the man seemed composed outwardly, he was obviously still boiling on the inside.

“He was?” Daichi asked concerned, he’d never seen that. And a grim nod from Iwaizumi silenced the group of friends because they knew that the seriousness of the situation just sky-rocketed.

“What’s wrong?” This time it was Suga’s turn to be concerned. He had seen his boyfriend worried before, but the matching facial expression on Daichi’s friends’ faces wasn’t normal for a situation where they found out that a friend had been crying. Though no one else had even seen that, so if it was true, it was also doubtful. People cried all the time. Why was it any different now? “I can understand you’d get upset if your friend is crying but you’re scaring me here. He only cried.” Suga pointed out, minding his tone more than before.

“You don’t get it.” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“Get what?”

“Hanamaki doesn’t cry.” Daichi clarified. He lifted his eyes to first look at his boyfriend to the eye, then all his friends, namely Bokuto and Matsukawa. “Ever.”

“I’ve only seen Hanamaki cry once and that was out of physical pain, he had broken three ribs, because some jerk-face drove over him with a Nissan Figaro,” Oikawa informed them, earning disbelieving expressions from the others. He then nudged Iwaizumi’s shoulder to continue making their point. “And I once more. But that was different. And I’ve known him for 9 years,” the shorter man pointed out.

Matsukawa was very much intrigued about the run-over, scratch it he was freaking shocked, but didn’t dare to ask. Ignoring that event for now, his experiences with the man backed up the information they gave. Hanamaki didn’t cry easily. He went to that emotionless shell type of state first but when it became overwhelming his dams could break. So, if the man with spiky-ish hair said Hanamaki was crying, something majorly upsetting must have happened.

“Okay, fuck this. I’m going to go find him,” Iwaizumi snapped and left for the exit. Oikawa ventured after him. Both were sporting worried expressions, Iwaizumi’s, though was also angry. Matsukawa wanted to follow but was stopped by nearly everyone still left around, for numerous reasons. Suga informed him still being on the clock and the dear boyfriend of his, Daichi, informed him that he shouldn’t poke into it any further. When Matsukawa gave him a look demanding an explanation the male sighed before providing him with it.

“They’re gonna be okay, probably.” Matsukawa raised an eyebrow at that, pressing the man to continue.

“I mean, they’re close. Like really really close.” Daichi emphasized but seemed to struggle with his definition of ‘closeness’ as Matsukawa was also beginning to. “They’re like family.” Daichi worked to clarify, but his tone wasn’t that convincing, at least to Matsukawa, who read through the lines well enough to figure out that Daichi wasn’t even sure himself, whether the three were like a family or something more.

Daichi took a break seeing as his poor excuse of an explanation was only confusing the tall man in front of him. “They’ve known each other, as Iwaizumi said, 9 years or so and they got close. Iwaizumi has always been strong, in many ways and he’s sure of himself. Hanamaki is strong too but unlike Iwaizumi, he needs a reason to be able to do that. Hanamaki’s strong for others. Never for himself.” Daichi scratched the back of his head, clearly pondering whether or not to continue and reveal more personal information of his friends. He looked at Akaashi, who was standing nearby, still quiet as per to his personality. After a glance at Matsukawa’s direction Akaashi gave a small nod, indicating that it should be okay to continue.

“He’s different. Always been, as far as I know. And as we well know, society doesn’t like anything that sticks out. Iwaizumi has been the one to get him out of trouble since way before. He’s like a big brother to Hanamaki. So, he can help and thus you shouldn’t follow them, now.”

Reluctantly Matsukawa backed off on the topic, and seeing as Daichi wouldn’t disclose any further information, he returned to his work. His head was full of questions. But he figured, if he wanted answers, he’d at least need to do it after work hours.

 

 

After running around like a headless chicken for a good while, Hanamaki stopped when he noticed that he recognized nothing of his surroundings. Through blurry eyes he saw but ramshackle buildings, mostly two-storied and with leaky roofs. Paint was peeling off the walls, electrical wires bunched up every some corner in bundle no one could even dream of disentangling. Paving was more cracked than solid and weeds seemed to celebrate their freedom. Windows were either covered by wooden planks, broken exterior shutters or make-shift covers. Street lamps towered high, and there wasn’t a person in sight.

Hanamaki figured that at least he’d managed his original goal, finding a place without any people, but maybe it wasn’t too wise to end up in unfamiliar place that just shouted ‘somebody’s going to kill you’. A very welcoming neighborhood indeed.

Nevertheless, he continued walking down the street. The running had miraculously calmed him down and now he could think. And he had to admit that truthfully, the only thing that had actually affected him, was Matsukawa’s opinion. He felt stupid for being so affected. He had literally run out and with fucking tears in his eyes. Talk about pathetic.

Hanamaki shook his head and lowered his gaze to the asphalt. As he eyed the serpentine cracks and the weeds swaying lightly in the gentle wind, Hanamaki tried to sort out his feelings. He knew he had overreacted, it’s not like Matsukawa had said anything wrong. But he just felt so hurt and embarrassed for feeling hurt and that had pretty much broken the dams. It was just that look, he knew that look. He’d seen it before.

Hanamaki’s eyes widened at the realization of his thoughts. Iwaizumi was there at the doorway. He saw it. Iwaizumi was going to start a fight! He was going to do the whole protective big brother thingy he always does when Hanamaki has had a bad relationship or a drunken misadventure. Is Matsukawa going to explain? Tell everyone everything. He wouldn’t, right? But… He had looked annoyed by him. He didn’t really have a reason not to tell. Now Hanamaki felt like crying again.

“What the hell happened to my ability to rein in my emotions?” Hanamaki complained out loud, working to wipe at his eyes in hopes to end the tears even before the fell. “What should I do?” He ruffled through his hair, scared of returning, and terrified what could happen if he didn’t. “Why is this so difficult?” Hanamaki spiraled around, he hated being confused. It was utterly frustrating, not knowing something.

Tears welled up even stronger than before and when he tried to fight them, Hanamaki noticed that he wasn’t even sure whether he was sad or angry. The bubbling frustration was muddling his emotions into something barely recognizable. He was squeezing up anger to smother the other emotions, those he deemed too shameful to show willingly. But what was he angry about? Where could he direct his anger to?

“Well, what do we have here?”

Hanamaki flinched at the sudden voice. He furiously wiped at his tears, but although he no longer felt like crying thanks to the shock of being seen, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Aww, the cutie is all tousled and weeping,” another voice continued, this one more condescending than the first.

Hanamaki dared a look in their direction and counted only 2 men closing on him. One was shorter than him, wearing a grey hoodie and a black cap backwards. He had ripped black jeans and dirty sneakers, and eyes that spoke of nothing else but his own amusement. The other one was quite different. He didn’t look like the typical thug or youngster or anything like it. He had good posture, and manly frame. He wore pale, ice grey slacks and a casual dress shirt with dark green stripes vertically on a black background was tucked in. Blonde locks were tied back into a loose ponytail and some hung loose to frame his well-portioned face. His gaze trailed over Hanamaki’s physique as if analyzing him. His eyes looked void of emotion, just purely objective to make notice of everything they saw. Any other day, that guy would have been Hanamaki’s type.

“What’s got your pretty little features all upside down?” The shorter one with the cap mockingly asked and walked closer. He tried to touch Hanamaki but before his hand could make contact with Hanamaki’s shoulder, Hanamaki instinctively slapped the hand away and screamed: “Don’t touch me!” He glared at the man fiercely, finding an outlet for the anger he didn’t know where to direct before.

This time the other man’s expressionless mask cracked and a smirk appeared in its place. “I’ve been wanting a kitten for a while and it seems I just found one to my liking, and it’s a stray one at that,” he mused with a self-satisfied tone.

Hanamaki eyed the man confused. Kitten? Stray? What the hell was this guy going on about? Before he could fully register it though, the man had neared him and was shockingly close. He caught a lock of Hanamaki’s hair between his fingers and caressed it.

“I’ll make you mine, _kitten_.”

Shocked beyond belief, Hanamaki felt rooted to the spot. The whispered declaration had sent shivers down his spine. Blinking furiously he tried to focus on what was important: figuring out the situation. All he could properly concentrate on were how pale brown irises, borderline amber even, the man standing few centimeters away from his face had. They were mesmerizing. Keeping him captive like in the stories about how vampires enamor women with their blood-red gaze. He felt just like that. Bewitched prey.


	11. "Thank you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t fix me,” Hanamaki finally cried in a whisper half-hoping Matsukawa wouldn’t be able to catch it. But he did. Matsukawa heard him loud and clear.

Late that evening, after his shift, Matsukawa was walking towards his apartment. He had tried to call Hanamaki multiple times and he had sent at least a zillion messages but received no answer whatsoever. He thought maybe Hanamaki was avoiding him, it would be plausible considering what happened, but he felt unconvinced. He had no reasoning for it, but he just had a bad inkling.

While ascending the iron staircase he heard some muffled talking but it was unintelligible. He stopped to listen better but figured nothing more of it. Matsukawa tried to at least pinpoint the direction it was coming from and deduced it to be from below, a little to his left. So, he leaned on the railing of the staircase and tried to scope around the area a little.

A normal person would have ignored the random noise by now, especially when they couldn’t find the origin, but Matsukawa was curious by nature. He knew it, his family knew it, his friends knew it, even his boss knew it. But he disliked meddlesome situations. A lot. For example fights were something he wasn’t good at, especially since he didn’t see the point in arguing or talking back to someone. He cared less about standing up to someone or defending his own point of view than getting through the situation easily. It didn’t mean he didn’t have a sense of justice or that he didn’t care at all, it was just that he was aware of how bad he was at dealing with his own emotions.

As much as Matsukawa was curious by nature he also had quite unbalanced emotions. Strangers in the past had labeled it as anger management issues but most had called him unfeeling so Matsukawa had decided to hide it all. His family didn’t know, his friends didn’t know, almost nobody knew. Only his older brother Kousei and friends Suga and Bokuto really knew about it. Kousei was the one who called it ‘having unbalanced emotions’. Suga wasn’t satisfied by that and he did research enough to bury a library in paper. Suga called it Borderline personality disorder. Matsukawa didn’t care what the correct term was, though both sounded better than anger management issues.

Kousei had explained to him that it couldn’t be called anger management issues because Matsukawa had problems regarding all the emotions, and he didn’t have violence issues any more than a regular Joe did. More than explosive anger really, Matsukawa had slight problems expressing feelings and even more so understanding them fully. Mostly everything went unnoticed by others, it was more of an inner turmoil for him, but a few times in the past things had gotten out of hand. Thus Matsukawa ended up escaping confrontational situations more often than not. But then why hadn’t he done so earlier today? He knew why. When things were about the pink haired boy 85% of his rationale flied out the window and the remaining 15% couldn’t cope with the swirling emotions ready to bounce off the walls at any moment.

“Wha-?! Stu-! Who the hell is your kitten?!”

Matsukawa recognized that voice anywhere. It couldn’t be anyone else. Or it could and Matsukawa would have to doubt his sanity because he would be hearing voices in his head. Matsukawa really hoped for the aforesaid option instead of the latter. He really didn’t feel like visiting the doc again.

When looking over the railing Matsukawa noticed three people on the street crossing a little way from his apartment building. He couldn’t see well enough in the dark to tell who they were but he figured he didn’t know them. So he was hearing voices? What was it called when you had fantasies awake? Shit, they were hallucinations, Matsukawa realized.

“In your dreams! Oh, choke on your cheesiness!”

In that instant Matsukawa snapped his head towards the trio. He was 100% sure of the voice. And accompanying it he swore he could see pink.

Matsukawa rushed down the stairs not sure if a million thoughts went through his head at the same time or none at all. It felt like static or white noise inside his head; all he could concentrate on was that Hanamaki was in trouble.

Matsukawa stumbled on the final step – because of the darkness he misjudged the distance to the ground – but he managed to stay upright. With no idea where he was stepping he rushed towards the trio. He saw nothing of his surroundings, only the figures that grew bigger with every step he took.

 

 

Hanamaki visibly flinched when the just barely taller man leaned in close enough so that Hanamaki could feel the warm breath on his skin. He couldn’t help shivering at the proximity and the insurmountable feeling in his gut that he needed to get away. But fear was also the thing that rooted him on the spot, despite the overbearing desire to escape.

“I’ll be seeing you, _kitten_ ,” he whispered into Hanamaki’s ear, straightened up, and with a smirk casually walked away. Hanamaki was left behind staring at the back of the strange but charismatic man that gave him the shivers, though unclear was if they were the good kind or the bad.

“Hanamaki!”

Surprised, Hanamaki whipped around and met with a worried pair of eyes above his eyelevel. Matsukawa’s appearance practically threw a bone lodged into Hanamaki’s throat. Everything he had just forgotten flooded back in with what felt even more weight. Hanamaki shot his gaze to the asphalt the instance after he met with Matsukawa’s. He felt he shouldn’t meet eye to eye with the man but he also felt sort of relieved to have a reason not to face him properly. He felt undeserving to do that as well as scared. The last time he saw the man, he read disgust and apprehension from him.

“Hanamaki? What was-“ In the middle of the sentence Matsukawa stopped, took a quick break, and then rephrased his question. “Are you alright?”

Tears welled up again. Hanamaki couldn’t believe it. Did he really care? Wasn’t he mad anymore? But Matsukawa was disgusted by him, right? Why was he asking this now? What kind of answer did he want?

“Did they do something? Hanamaki, you’re scaring me here…” Matsukawa reached a hand to nudge the boy’s shoulder, thinking maybe he wasn’t heard, even though he stood like a meter next to him. That small touch was enough to make the silent boy flinch visibly and physically withdraw into himself. Matsukawa grimaced at the reaction. It wasn’t his intention to scare the boy further. He diverted his gaze in self-shame to lower left and caught a glimpse of something shiny, glittering under the lousy street lights.

“Are- are you crying?”

Feeling hopeless and figuring it already to be stupid to try to hide the fact, Hanamaki let out a quiet sniffle and a fairly unnoticeable nod. “I- I-“ Hanamaki couldn’t keep himself in enough pieces to choke out a proper sentence, but he made an effort to at least communicate by stuttering words to the best of his ability. “Thought that- I was horrible- I did that- I know I shouldn’t have. But I just. Sorry. I won’t go near anymore. I’ll stop. Mm so disgusted, right. I know it’s bad but I can’t do it.”

“Hanamaki, calm down, I can’t make heads or tails of what you’re saying.”

Hanamaki sniffled louder this time, seemingly scared by the response. “I- I’m sorry. I won’t talk to you anymore, I just wanted to say I’m sorry I’m disgusting-!” With every word Hanamaki’s speech sped up and in the end he seemed to begin almost hyperventilating. The panic rose, he could only see dark around the edges and his sight continuing to blurry.

“No!” Matsukawa shouted in panic of his own.

Hanamaki flinched at that again and Matsukawa was more than ready to just smash his own skull through the next wall and then drown himself in the washing machine. He was certifiably incapable of learning from his mistakes. “Let’s just calm down first. Can I touch you?” Matsukawa carefully asked, trying to be as non-threatening as he possibly could.

Hanamaki felt so dumbfounded by the random question that he almost forgot he was still bawling. “Why the hell do you need to ask that?” He demanded fiercely enough to surprise Matsukawa.

“You clearly don’t like being touched so..?”

“It’s you who doesn’t like touching me!”

“You’re flinching every time you’re touched!”

“Because you’re touching me!”

“What the hell are you even saying…” Matsukawa’s shoulders slumped in confusion as and Hanamaki hadn’t even noticed that he was facing the slightly taller man directly. They both found themselves staring at each other in awkward silence and processing what the hell they were fighting about.

“I’m not sure what’s upsetting you,” Matsukawa decided to ignore the small argument for now and tried to get back on track about Hanamaki’s condition. He took a step closer and slowly lifted his hand, so that Hanamaki could clearly perceive what he was doing. Matsukawa placed his left hand on Hanamaki’s cheek and with his thumb he gently swiped away a few falling tears. He waited for Hanamaki to back off but surprisingly that didn’t happen. The pink haired boy only flinched, though he seemed quite tense. Matsukawa couldn’t suppress a faint smile from playing on his lips at this small victory. “But I want to help. So, would you let me?” He quietly pleaded, baring his affections for the boy to the best of his ability and hoping that would help.

Hanamaki felt like electricity was coursing through his bloodstream. His limbs felt numb but prickly at the same time. The part of his cheek Matsukawa was touching felt like it was suffering from frostbite, it gave him cold shivers at first and then it was hot as if it was burning. Hanamaki tried to think of million things at once but somehow he felt like running in circles and forming anything coherent seemed utterly impossible. Suddenly Matsukawa’s touch changed, it moved ever so slightly to better cup his cheek, and Hanamaki’s breath hitched.

“Y-you…” Hanamaki stuttered, feeling like something was painfully lodged in his throat and thus preventing him from speaking properly. Not that he had a clear idea what to say in the first place.

“Yes?” Matsukawa calmly urged, his thumb doing slowly circles on Hanamaki’s cheek, caressing the small almost feverish area. It was an attempt at trying to calm and reassure the other boy but little did Matsukawa realize just how opposite of an effect the caring gesture had.

“You can’t fix me,” Hanamaki finally cried in a whisper half-hoping Matsukawa wouldn’t be able to catch it. But he did. Matsukawa heard him loud and clear.

“Oh babe, of course I can’t fix you.” Matsukawa answered and Hanamaki felt like the world crumbled under his feet and even the endearment went unnoticed. Of course he knew that. He was even expecting that answer. But hearing it straight out from Matsukawa’s mouth had pierced him deeper than he could have ever guessed. He felt crushed. Hanamaki was hopelessly broken, so badly that it was but a matter of fact that he couldn’t be fixed. Tears welled even harder in his eyes, a hiccup rising to his throat ready to be whimpered aloud. How could Hanamaki have thought that there might have been something decent left inside of him. Something even mildly desirable maybe.

Matsukawa let out a pleased chuckle, as if what Hanamaki had required an answer to had been easier to answer than he had expected. Oh and for Matsukawa it truly had been.

Matsukawa lifted his other hand to cup Hanamaki’s other cheek and gently he forced the boy to look into his eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing to fix in you. You’re perfect.” Matsukawa told him with serious but gentle tone. His eyes spoke of passion and affection so strongly that Hanamaki thought he could get drunk on the emotion swirling behind those almost black orbs.

“How could you say that?” Hanamaki bawled when realization beat the shock. How could Matsukawa use a word like ‘perfect’ to describe something like him? He was anything but!

“How could I not?” Matsukawa countered. “You’re funny, no scratch that, you’re freaking hilarious, you’re a devious little shit with a knack for jokes that make people furious and I love it. You like wearing old shirts with horrible prints that are so lame that I can’t figure who the hell decided to manufacture them and thought it was even a relatively good idea. And your hair is fucking pink. Even then you’re beautiful and sexy, you know how to carry yourself and there’re countless who’re left drooling at your feet.” Matsukawa took a small break, breathed in and continued for he wasn’t finished yet. Hanamaki was so much more and the boy needed to be reminded of it.

“You’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met but you are also an absolute disaster in the kitchen, and I love that too. You’re a crazy son of a bitch who thinks chick flicks equal stilettos, which is beyond stupid. And you have cracks in your armor, you’ve been hurt, you have scars. But you’re not broken. You’re independent man but have a habit of overthinking things even though you may seem carefree. And most importantly, there’s absolutely nothing tainted or dirty about you. The people who touched you against your permission, the people who said such things to convince you otherwise, they couldn’t have defiled anything else but themselves. Never forget that.”

Hanamaki stood there staring, tears flowing down his cheeks in a constant stream, pale eyelashes brushing his cheeks with every shocked blink. He had stopped shivering, probably a consequence of Matsukawa’s shocking words, he wasn’t sure. He thought about what he heard. It was compliments, not polite compliments but _truths_. Hanamaki knew he was shit when cooking, he knew he liked plotting devious pranks that angered people. His taste in clothes had been deemed questionable a long time ago but nobody told him it was alright. _A confession_ , Hanamaki thought. Matsukawa didn’t tell Hanamaki that he liked or loved him but still it was a confession right? It _felt_ like one. Was this what a confession was? Hanamaki wasn’t sure. Why wasn’t he sure? He had dated before and slept around. There had been people before ambiguously telling him they liked him or wanted to fuck him. _Oh, but I haven’t been confessed to before_ , Hanamaki realized.

Hanamaki flushed scarlet all the way up to his ears. He had to lower his eyes to their feet, seeing two pairs of well-worn sneakers and cracked asphalt. Hanamaki had moss green sneakers while Matsukawa sported dark grey ones. Matsukawa’s shoes were obviously older and more worn, they were chafed and there was nothing white about the laces anymore.

“Hanamaki?” Matsukawa snapped Hanamaki back to the moment, after being momentarily immersed in things completely different. A bad habit of his.

“I- I don’t- Umm.” Hanamaki couldn’t find the words he wanted, _needed_. “That- Umm…Why- No.” After stumbling some more with his wording, he quietened, closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes, Matsukawa was still looking at him, waiting patiently. A sliver of hope and something Hanamaki couldn’t recognize was present in his eyes. It was odd, somehow intense and it seemed like they were desperately trying to convey something extremely important. It was an emotion, Hanamaki realized, but he still couldn't define it. What could it be?

“Thank you.” Hanamaki finally decided to say. He couldn’t figure anything more appropriate to say. Words weren’t nowhere near enough to describe what Hanamaki felt. He didn’t want to say anything about his feelings towards Matsukawa for he felt that if he said anything now it would feel like a spur of the moment kind of a thing and that was the last thing he wanted. If he was allowed, he’d tell him later. At a more appropriate moment. For the time being he decided he’d show the man. He’d work his hardest, try his hardest and make Matsukawa want to stay with him.

Slowly Hanamaki pushed Matsukawa’s hands down from his cheeks, he noted that this displeased Matsukawa slightly, a small frown worked its’ way up to the curly haired man’s lips, but for now Hanamaki ignored it. When Matsukawa cocked his head to the side in a questioning manner, about to voice his thoughts, Hanamaki quickly and smoothly placed his index finger on Matsukawa’s lips to wordlessly silence him. He didn’t want to be questioned about his actions when he was still working up his courage for his next action.

Matsukawa confusedly complied to the silent plea and waited. It seemed that was something he did a lot lately, but he couldn’t say it was easy or came naturally to him. But it was what was needed of him so he did it. He waited. He waited until Hanamaki mustered together his determination and courage, collected the together some of the pieces of his lost confidence and turned to face him again. All done in silence.

Hanamaki removed his finger from Matsukawa’s surprisingly warm lips, placed the same hand tentatively on Matsukawa’s cheek and leaned closer. He felt Matsukawa’s warm breath fanning his face, the rhythm changing when the man realized what was happening. Hanamaki closed his eyes, and placed a fleeting kiss on the corner of Matsukawa’s mouth. The kiss was innocent, nothing but a brush of lips on Matsukawa’s skin and over as soon as it had even happened.

Matsukawa froze on the spot. He couldn’t react to the gentle action, he didn’t have enough time to even register it happening before it was already over. But even though he was frozen in place and unable to answer, inside, his whole body roared to life as if someone had lit a bonfire in his bloodstream. His heart pumped blood through his veins with such force that when compared to his earlier state he could have been a lifeless corpse. It was as if Hanamaki had breathed life into him.

_Oh shit. I probably love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I finally wrote this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! Things are changing and yes they're finally making progress I know it has been excruciatingly sloooow. I'm so sorry for being slow and not posting for a long time!! I suffered while writing this but I think it was worth it. Pls give kudos if you liked this and send comments if you wanna say something or just gush about Matsuhana I'll gladly join you! I hope you can put up with me and wait for the next chapter ~ I love you guys, thank you for reading this ^^


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